Riddle's Little Problem
by Batsutousai
Summary: An accident has separated Tom Riddle from Lord Voldemort. What will the Dark Lord do now that he's free from Tom's conscious? How much will Tom have to suffer at the hand of his other half? And what can Harry Potter do to help?
1. A Little Potion Accident

**Title:** Riddle's "Little" Problem  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Beta:** Me. -smiles innocently-  
**Rating:** hard R  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Tom Riddle(non-con)  
**Warnings:** Rape(non-graphic), physical violence, serious death threats, war, slash  
**Disclaim Her:** You're going to make me laugh. _Me_? Own _Harry Potter_! That's rich. -snorts in amusement-

**Summary:** An accident has separated Tom Riddle from Lord Voldemort. What will the Dark Lord do now that he's free from Tom's conscious? How much will Tom have to suffer at the hand of his other half? And what can Harry Potter do to help?

-/-

_A Little Potion Accident _

-/-

I've done some really dumb things in my life. There is no denying that. Like that time I'd stolen Josh's stuffed bear without being careful enough. Mrs Cole had not been pleased when she caught me. Or the time during seventh year that I'd decided getting a Firewhiskey at the Hog's Head was a good idea. I was lucky Slughorn found me instead of, say, Dumbledore. Or, my favourite, the time I'd acted like a bloody Gryffindor and went for the Potters as soon as I'd found where they were hiding.

But I'm certain that this time I've topped all other dumb things. Yes, even that Potter mistake.

Of course, being chained to your bed is probably a pretty good indicator of 'severely dumb'.

Let me start at the beginning of this incident. For starters, I'm Lord Voldemort. Well, okay. To be fair, _I'm_ Tom Riddle. Voldemort handcuffed me to my bed to keep me out of trouble. And so I wouldn't try and find a way to fix things. See, I was trying to make a potion that would make me look younger, restore my powers to what they were in my youth. A younger body holds more magic than an older body, you see - I shudder to think how powerful Dumbledore once was.

The potion was going just great. Until Wormtail interrupted me. Something about Malfoy's precious little brat hexing him. I'd turned to yell at him one moment. The next, I was laying on the ground next to a _very_ dead Wormtail while I stood over myself. I know the Death Eaters have always called me 'snake-faced' or something like that behind my back, and I dare say they're right. I'm also referred to as 'fucking creepy', from what Nagini says, and I can safely say they're correct about that too.

So, here I am, chained to my bed, as my other half runs about creating mayhem. And I _know_ he's creating mayhem, because I can sense his thoughts, just as I can sense Potter's, at the edges of my mind. Right now he's a bit pleased. Creepy, really. I now also know why everyone seems to think I'm insane. I am. Or, rather, _Voldemort_ is.

Now Potter, on the other hand, is practising his Occlumency again. He's getting better at it, I must admit, but it won't help him against me. Not because I'm impossibly good, mind you - he'd probably be able keep me out - but because of the nature of our bond. If one of us truly wants into the mind of the other, it's no problem. Our bond has little to do with either Legilimency or Occlumency - though my studies on the subject suggest that it would certainly make it easier to read Potter now - as we cannot only sense feelings or see memories, but also see from the other's eyes and possess the other with little difficulty.

Now, that's a thought. Where might the brat be right now? In his Muggle hidey-hole, perhaps?

I allow myself to be pulled down the faintly burning light in my mind's eye and find myself staring out Potter's eyes at an ocean I know far too well. His little friends are sitting nearby, cooking over a small fire and talking quietly. Acting on a whim, I grab hold of Potter's motor functions, then start speaking to him.

_'I'd like to know what you're doing so far from your safe-holdings, Potter,'_ I murmur. Potter panics and I can't help but laugh as his mind struggles with me to regain control of at least his mouth. _'Just relax, Harry. I promise not to kill your little friends, **if** you'll listen to me and answer my questions.'_

A curt _'Fine,'_ is the only response I receive.

_'Good boy.'_ I eye the mental him as he forms before me.

Before I can begin with my interrogation, Potter speaks, _'Why do you look like that all of a sudden? Get sick of looking like a dead snake?'_

I growl. _'Watch it, Potter. I'll kill your friends if you piss me off.'_

He gives me an odd look for a moment before nodding and taking a seat that appears for him for just that reason. _'Go on, then.'_

_'Why are you in Greenland?'_ I ask after forcing my own chair into being and settling down into it.

This time I recognize the look in his eyes as calculating - not the sort of look one might expect from Harry Potter, Gryffindor Golden Boy - and narrow my eyes dangerously. _'We're looking for something that Dumbledore left behind,'_ he finally supplies.

His dancing around the answer doesn't fool me. _'Oh no you don't-'_

Potter flies to his feet and, for once, I find him towering over me, fury in his eyes. _'Get out of my mind, you wanker. I'll get rid of your if it's the last thing I do!'_

I stand before him, disliking having to look up at him. _'Watch yourself, Potter. You still don't have control of yourself.' _To prove my point, I raise the boy's right hand to point his wand at his friends.

Potter freezes, expression trapped between fear and defiance. I watch him, unsure of what he might do next. One can never tell with Gryffindors.

When Potter relaxes, so do I, letting his arm drop back to the ground. _'Now sit.'_

Potter moves to sit but, just before his rump touches the pale gold seat of his chair, he springs into action, knocking me backwards and throwing both of us to the ground on the other side of my chair, both hands over my throat. _'Try anything and I swear I'll kill you,'_ he gasps.

I smirk up at him. _'It's possible to make your mouth say _Avada Kedavra_ before I can suffocate, you know,'_ I point out. _'Anyway, you and I both know I can't be killed just yet.'_

_'I'd love the pleasure of killing you twice,'_ Potter shoots back viscously.

_'Ah. This is where you'd gotten to,'_ a some-what insane and rather chilled voice says from behind Potter.

The boy glances over his shoulder, eyes wide with horror. _'But-'_

I can just see Voldemort around Potter's head as he steps closer. _'You have something that belongs to me, Potter. Get off of him.'_

Potter gets off of me and moves away quickly. I sit up carefully. Fuck, my back hurts.

I hear the sound of flesh on flesh ring through the air before I register that my other half has gone and smacked me. I shoot him a poisonous look as my cheek flares with fire. _'And what the fuck was that for?'_

Voldemort grabs me about the throat and pulls me to my feet, mindless of the fact that I'm no longer able to breath - and I know he's aware of the fact. _'I told you to stay put, did I not, Tom?'_ my other half purrs.

I bare my teeth at him, as I can hardly speak without any air.

_'Oh, you'll be learning obedience tonight, won't you?'_ he murmurs before glancing up at Potter, who's standing behind me somewhere. _'I'll be seeing you around, Harry,'_ he offers to our enemy before pulling us sharply from the brat's mind.

I gasp as soon as I get back into my body, desperate for air, even though the suffocation I'd felt in Potter's mine didn't affect my human body.

"You've been a very bad boy, Tom," he purrs in my ear.

I glare up at him furiously. "Bugger off, you bastard."

Scaly white hands slip beneath my robe to touch my stomach. "Watch how you say things, Tom. I might just take your words for an invite."

Gritting my teeth, I kick out at him, hissing as he dances out of the way. "Let me free, you ponce!"

"Tut-tut." He waves a finger at me, staying out of my kicking range. I know he's just playing with me, or he'd have paralyzed me already.

A knock on the door makes both of us free. We spend a long moment just staring at one another before the knock comes again, this time followed by a voice, "My Lord? I heard shouting."

Voldemort spins and throws open the door just enough so he can glare out. "Get back to your position," his spits, then slams the door closed and turns on me. "It's good that I have control over my own body now," he whispers, eyes dancing madly. "I can fix these shoddy Silencing Charms of yours!" He reinforces the charms on our room before turning his wand on me. "_Crucio_."

I bite back on my reflex scream, allowing my body to thrash without fighting it. I've learned that fighting the Cruciatus Curse mentally makes you go mad faster. Better to ride it out.

_'Fuck.'_

I whip around at the sound of the voice in my mind, totally detached from my thrashing body now. _'Potter!'_

Potter glances up at me with wide eyes. _'What happened?'_

_'The connection's too strong!'_ I shout, not quite sure why I feel the need to protect the brat. _'Get out before he realizes you're here!'_ I push him away and into a shadow that I'd conjured into being just as I sense the curse being lifted.

Reality hits firmly as I hit the bed, bouncing due to the force with which he throws me. "_Immobulus_."

My limbs freeze and I watch Voldemort with no little amount of terror as he starts to undress. This man is the only one I will ever truly fear. Dumbledore was nothing compared to my other half. Voldemort knows everything about me, perhaps because he _is_ me. He knows what I fear - and, yes, there are things I fear - and he knows what will get to me. He's also insane. At least Dumbledore had morals.

"Remember, pet, you invited," he whispers as my robes disappear.

I want to shake my head, to scream, anything. I've spent seventy years without sexual contact. This bastard's going to ruin it because he didn't like my Silencing Charm.

Gentle hands take one of mine in my mind and I glance down at Potter. The boy is staring out my eyes with horror written across his face. _'What-'_

_'A potion gone wrong,'_ I sigh, too tired to resist the brat as well. I know Voldemort, just as he knows me. I'll remain trapped in my room for the rest of my most likely very short life, being used as his little toy to torture when he loses his temper. That is the way of a madman. That is the way of the most powerful wizard on the earth. _'You should leave. You don't want to see this,'_ I inform Potter, watching as Voldemort pumps himself so he's even harder. This is going to hurt. Great.

_'I don't like you, but I won't leave you here alone while that monster fucking rapes you!'_ Potter screams, stepping forward and turning slightly so he can meet my gaze.

I grab the brat by the throat and lean down until we're nose to nose. _'The words of the spell are "surgo abigo". Stand on the largest rock on the crest of the land to the left of your camp. The door will need your blood, and you must beware the Inferi that will be guarding it. Speak to them in Parseltongue and they will calm - they answer positively to that language, though I know not why,'_ I say quickly, knowing he's my last hope at this point. To be freed from Voldemort, I will help Harry Potter find the Horcruxes that are left. _'Now go!'_ I push him away and mentally force him from my mind.

This hell, I will suffer through alone.

-/-

**A/N:** Crazy little idea that hit me when I got bored and wanted to read a Voldemort/Tom. Didn't turn out quite as expected, but it's certainly looking fun. -rubs hands together- And, yes, I know, I should finish The Forgotten, the Of Angels and Demons series, and Reclaim before I start another fic, but I couldn't help it.

Now. Should I make this a Tom/Harry? I haven't decided yet.

Feed the hungry college author with reviews! And look forward to an update on Reclaim tomorrow!  
Bats


	2. The Spectacles

**Title:** Riddle's "Little" Problem  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Beta:** Me. -smiles innocently-  
**Rating:** hard R  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Tom Riddle(non-con)  
**Warnings:** Rape(non-graphic), physical violence, serious death threats, war, slash  
**Summary:** An accident has separated Tom Riddle from Lord Voldemort. What will the Dark Lord do now that he's free from Tom's conscious? How much will Tom have to suffer at the hand of his other half? And what can Harry Potter do to help?

**Disclaim Her:** I own only the Horcrux. The Horcrux in this chapter, mind you. Not the idea of Horcruxes or their name. None of that. Only the Horcrux itself. Now leave me alone.

-/-

_The Spectacles_

-/-

He'd cast a simple Dark spell that would keep me trapped in the room before he left. I had allowed myself to dress after a quick wash and got as far away from the bed as I could in my small prison - leaving me in a dark corner - but allowed myself no other show that the whole thing had bothered me. Even in the safety of my own mind I allowed no weaknesses. Instead, I paced.

And I still pace. Two hours since he'd left and I have found nothing to do but pace. Back and forth. The world of my mind doesn't change, stays empty. Am I meditating? I in a way. Am I hiding? Most certainly.

I refuse to hide the facts from myself. Yes, I was raped. No, I was no longer a virgin. Yes, Voldemort was insane. Yes, there was little chance of me getting out of this alive. Not for the first time in my life, I found myself unable to do anything other than pace and think. It is aggravating and never easy, but it teaches some good lessons. I have often found myself wondering if the lack of patience is the real reason why Gryffindors are always getting killed in the past.

This time, I don't think about foolish Gryffindors. Such thoughts make me nervous and I shy away from them. My own sanity and possible freedom in is the hands of a Gryffindor. Three Gryffindors, really, but only one matters for this.

_'You're okay?'_

I force myself to turn slowly, to not give in to the sudden need to find comfort in the only one who dares to show that he cares. _'Of course. I'm still alive, aren't I? Did you get it?'_ I snap in response. He can't care. I killed his parents. I had his precious Headmaster killed. I am the cause behind his godfather's death. Only a fool would care.

_'Of course I got it,'_ Potter replies patiently.

Patience of a saint. Saint Potter. The thought strikes me as funny and I can't help but let a small chuckle escape. And the larger chuckle that follows it. And the next, and the next.

And then I'm laughing. And there are tears. I can't stop the tears. I don't think I want to.

_'Tom?'_

Saint Potter is worried about me. I fall to the ground, laughing. And I'm still crying. I don't like crying. Crying is a weakness. Why am I still crying? I have to stop-

_'Tom?'_ A soft hand touches my face.

_'Don't touch me!'_ I scoot backwards, shuddering. Don't touch me. Please don't touch me. I don't want anyone touching me. If they touch me-

Warm arms around my shoulders. _'No! No, let go!'_ I lash out, not even really recognizing when I connect with flesh. Nor does the one holding me, it seems, for he doesn't let go.

The arms are gone for half a moment, then I feel myself pushed out into the real world. Sunlight beats down on me and I duck my head. Where am I?

A feminine hand rests on the knee that is not mine. But it is mine? I glance up into worried brown eyes, then jerk away. _'Potter!'_

Masculine arms surround me and I freeze. Granger comes back into sight. "Tom?"

I stare at her, allowing the shock to show on my face as I blindly search for Potter's conscious in his own mind. There! _'Potter!'_

Stern green eyes glance up from a book he holds. _'Go back out there.'_ And then he pushes me back out towards firm arms and worried eyes.

Granger seems to be able to tell the difference between when I'm there and not, for she starts speaking as soon as I return. "We promise not to hurt you, right? Harry just asked us to help calm you down. He's no good at these sorts of things."

I shake m-Potter's head hurriedly. "I don't need to be calmed down," I spit at her, narrowing Potter's eyes. "And I don't want any blood traitor holding me."

Weasley's grip tightens. "Listen up, mate," he said, grip relaxing when I tense at the word 'mate'. "I don't like you, but Harry seems to think you could use some help. And you helped us locate another Horcrux. Call me or Hermione any more names, though, and I'll tell Harry to let you rot."

"Hermione and me," Granger says.

"Whatever."

Granger glances at me, something in her eyes I can't place. "Ron, let him go."

"But-"

"Let him go."

The arms drop away and I allow myself to relax just slightly, offering Granger the faintest of nods.

"Better?" she inquires, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

I cock my head to one side. What an odd witch. "No," I answer truthfully. "Potter says you got the Horcrux?"

"Why are you helping us, anyway?" Weasley demands, sitting on the other side of the fire pit from where Granger crouches before me.

"Don't you star-"

My hand slaps over my mouth without my permission and it takes me a few brief moments to remember that I'm in _Potter's_ body and he probably has enough sense to keep control over _some_ of his limbs.

Granger pulls a cloth from her pocket and offers it to me. "We weren't sure how to destroy it," she murmurs.

I take the wrapped Horcrux and pull it from it's cloth in one smooth movement, then take a long moment to stare down at the simple-looking pair of spectacles. Ravenclaw's prize. I worked so hard for this one. It had been in a Muggle museum and it had taken a massive amount of magic and money to get it from them. I perfected my Imperius for a reason, you know.

Narrowing my-Potter's eyes, I crush that damn thing, using the magic Potter freely offers me to help block any backwash.

"That's _all_!" Weasley shouts, jumping to his feet.

I sneer at him. "Of course not, Weasley. If _you_ had tried that, it would have burned you from the inside out. If Potter had tried that, he would have lost his arm. Only their maker can safely destroy them."

"Really?" Granger leans forward, excited.

_'I should get back,'_ I sigh to Potter, not the least bit interested in explaining everything about Horcruxes to the Muggle-born bookworm.

Potter offers me a sad look, his book long gone. _'If that's what you truly wish, I cannot stop you.'_

I shrug. _'Go to Santarém, in Brazil. Hufflepuff's cup rests near there. Contact me again once you've got it.'_ I turn to return to my own body.

_'How will we find it?'_ Potter asks quickly.

I offer him a cold smile. _'You can't miss it.'_ Then I force myself back into my body.

The bedroom is still as empty as before. Now it's also cold, though. The fire has gone out. Should I get up? It will mean going near the bed again. But, if I don't, I'll freeze. And that's bad because?

I get up and attend to the fire. Potter will need my help getting into the base, or at least finding it. I can't die yet. Voldemort will die before I do.

I swear by it.

-/-

-/-

**A/N:** Fall break! Fall break! I love fall break!

Some people mentioned the differences between "Tom" and "Voldemort"? Well, let's just put it this way:  
"Tom" is everything that made the Dark Lord human. He's the studious, brilliant student who made most of the choices. During his younger life, "Tom" was the one always in the fore. He's like the "good voice".  
"Voldemort" is everything that made the Dark Lord a monster. He's the one who started killing. He doesn't care about the why of things, only that they're done. Most of the stupid things that "Tom" was referring to in the first chapter were the cause of "Voldemort". "Voldemort" is that side that one might call the "evil voice".  
So, really, all of the "good" qualities went to "Tom" while all the "bad" qualities went to "Voldemort". They are the opposites that are found in every person. Their personalities are symbolized by their appearances.  
Hope that helps!

Feed the author!  
Bats


	3. The Last One

**Title:** Riddle's "Little" Problem  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Beta:** Me. -smiles innocently-  
**Rating:** hard R  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Tom Riddle(non-con)  
**Warnings:** Rape(non-graphic), physical violence, serious death threats, war, slash  
**Summary:** An accident has separated Tom Riddle from Lord Voldemort. What will the Dark Lord do now that he's free from Tom's conscious? How much will Tom have to suffer at the hand of his other half? And what can Harry Potter do to help?

**Disclaim Her:** Poor, poor Tom. -cackles insanely-

-/-

_The Last One _

-/-

It's been almost a week now and I haven't heard back from Potter. It's boring during the days, but when Voldemort gets back from his mayhem, my own personal hell engulfs me. Voldemort takes his frustrations out on me. I don't know why he won't kill me, and I dare not ask.

The door opens and I glance up tiredly from my spot in my corner. And it _is_ my corner, damnit. Even when he drags me from my corner, it's still _my_ corner.

"Get over here." His eyes blaze furiously.

With a sigh, I stand and step up to him. Better to not aggravate him by keeping away. I learned that one quickly. "What?" I keep my eyes on the ground and speak evenly. Better to not aggravate him by challenging him, either.

His hand flies out and grabs me about the throat, then he tugs me towards him. "How has your day been, pet?"

"Fine," I rasp, reaching one hand up to tug at his grip on my throat. Breathing would be lovely right about now.

His arm moves and, the next thing I know, I've hit the wall. With a quiet moan, I crumple to the ground. Ooooooh... My back hurts.

"_Crucio_."

I bite back on my scream, wincing when I taste blood. When did I bite my tongue? Just now? Or was it when he threw me into the wall? I don't _remember_ biting my tongue...

He lifts the curse, eyeing me coldly. "Scream, pet," he orders before recasting the Cruciatus.

I won't! I bite my tongue on purpose this time. The blood that I'm forced to swallow doesn't bother me, although, the crazed look in his eyes scares me near to death.

He lifts his curse again. "Very well, pet. I know how to make you scream."

I spit a mouthful of blood at him.

"That's lovely," he offers me with a touch of amusement, as if I'm a little child. He cleans the blood with a quick spell before stepping forward and grabbing me, once again, about the throat.

This time, I hit him right between the eyes with blood and smirk.

"You little bastard!" He throws me into the wall again.

"You shouldn't call yourself names," I tell him lightly. Why the hell am I pissing him off?

"_Crucio_."

Arms surround me in my mind and another consciousness force me to allow a scream. _'Stop it! He'll kill you!'_ Potter cries.

_'I don't care! Let me go!'_ I struggle against his arms.

Obviously pleased, Voldemort ends the curse, then goes to take a bath.

Potter allows me control over my body again so I can crawl back over to my little corner, where I sit and shudder. _'Just let him kill me already.'_

Potter shakes his head furiously. _'No! I won't stand here and watch you go on a suicide mission, you idiot! I **can't**!'_

_'Then learn how!'_ I pull away from him. _'And don't fucking **touch me**!'_

Potter gives me this impossibly sad look. _'We've got the cup. Would you like to see it?'_

I look away. I can't meet his eyes. _'Tomorrow. If he comes back and I'm gone...'_

_'I'll return tomorrow, then,'_ Potter replies. Then, before I notice him, he wraps me in a hug and I stiffen. _'Please don't let him kill you, Tom. Fight him by living. If you die, he wins.'_ And then he's gone.

I glance up as Voldemort steps back into the room. He hasn't bothered to get dressed again and walks about naked. A disgusting sight. I should help Potter. We need to kill him... "Where's Nagini?"

Voldemort frowns at me. "I killed her. She talks too much."

I stare at him for a long moment, aghast. "But, she was one of our Horcruxes..."

"We have four others." Voldemort waves his hand at me uncaringly. "And seven is such a stupid number. I don't know why you picked it."

I scowl. "Beca-"

"I don't _care_, either." He gives me a chilled look. "Keep your mouth shut, Tom. And go take a shower. You stink."

"Fine." I slip into the bathroom and lock the door. Damned bastard.

-/-

After Voldemort leaves, I follow the light to Potter's mind. He and his little friends are sleeping and I get this sudden need to wake them up with a touch of shock. So I take control of Potter's body and cast a spell to conjure a couple buckets of water. Then I let them dump.

"What!"

"Fucking hell!"

I clutch Potter's stomach, laughing.

Granger gives me a suspicious look, slipping a thick lock of wet hair over one ear. "Tom?"

"Good morning," I offer, stomping down on my laughter.

"You bastard!" Weasley looks ready to punch me, so I shove Potter out and hide behind him in his mind.

"Ron, stop it," Potter says tiredly.

"But that-"

Potter gives Weasley a bored look and Weasley shuts up. "And that _was_ rude, Tom," he adds out-loud, so both of his friends can hear him as well.

_'So? It's not **my** fault they were off-guard.'_

I feel myself being pushed forward and find myself in control of Potter's body again. _'Apologize.'_

_'What! No!'_

_'Tom, apologize for waking them up,'_ Potter sounds tired, as if he's seen too much, lived through too much.

He probably has, now that I think about it. "I'm sorry for dumping water on your heads," I offer grudgingly.

"Apology accepted," Granger replies, smiling.

Weasley gives me a dark look. "Fine. Don't do that again."

"Oh, Ron." Granger gives him an amused look. "Go make breakfast, you big grump."

Weasley wanders over to get a fire started. "Don't try any funny stuff, Riddle!" he calls over his shoulder.

I roll Potter's eyes. "Where's the cup?"

_'In my bag,'_ Potter says at the same moment as both Granger and Weasley say, "Harry hid it."

I sigh and grab Potter's bag. _'**Where** in here?'_ I grumble, scowling at the mess that runs rampant within the small Muggle sack.

_'Here...'_ Potter sighs and re-gains control of his hands. He then proceeds to pull the cup from some random side pocket that I had not even considered.

_'Muggles,'_ I grumble as he returns the use of his hands to me. Potter laughs in his mind at me. _'Don't you laugh!'_

_'I'm sorry, but you just sound so conceited,'_ he offers apologetically.

I decide it's best to ignore him and return my attention to the cup. "You might want to back up, Granger," I suggest quietly.

"Oh, right." Granger moves over to where Weasley is cooking by the fire, her eyes never leaving the treasure in my hands.

With a scowl, I force Potter's and my magical gifts into the last Horcrux. The gold cup shatters into thousands of tiny shards and I only just register Granger's shout of concern for Potter's well-being. _'That's the last of them, then,'_ I murmur.

_'What do you mean?'_ Potter inquires as I give him back control of his body. "I'm fine, Hermione. See? Not a scratch."

"It shattered all over you! I thought for sure you'd be hurt!" Granger cries.

I sigh within Potter's mind. _'Please remind her that while I am the one destroying it, it will not harm the body I am in.'_

"Tom says to remind you that it can't hurt the body he inhabits," Potter informs Granger.

"Oh. Yeah..."

Potter returns his attention inwards. _'Now, what did you mean "that's the last of them"?'_

_'He got ticked off at Nagini and killed her,'_ I say simply.

Pity washes over me as Potter's mental form appears and then proceeds to hug me. Again. _'I'm sorry.'_

I tug away from him. _'I don't want your **pity**, Potter.'_ I sneer at him.

_'Fine,'_ he replies shortly. I can tell I've hurt him with my words. Good. _'Where's the base?'_

I give him an incredulous look. _'You can't expect to waltz right on into my base and just kill him, you idiot!'_

_'Then what the fuck do you expect me to do! Dance naked in front of a group of Death Eaters and expect them to take me to you all conscious?'_

_'Actually.'_ I smirk. _'That could work beautifully.'_

_'Oh, no you don't! Not a chance!'_

I wave my hand at him impatiently. _'Look. I know where you are, right? I'll tell him to give me a squad of Death Eaters so I can come get you, right? We bring you back, I make sure you're not unconscious, then you take the bastard out.'_

_'I have this strange feeling that this will never work,'_ Potter grumbles.

_'Shut up, Potter. I'll **make** it work.'_

_'Yeah. Right.'_

_'I will! Just...'_ I shrug uncomfortably. _'Tell your friends to hide before we come. He'll not want to bother with them.'_

Potter nods. _'Right.'_

I turn my back to him and force myself back into my own body. Time to plan out how to talk to him.

-/-

"Uhm..."

He frowns at me. "What do you want, Tom?"

Oh, good. He's in a relatively sane mood. "I was wondering if you'd allow me to go hunt down Potter."

"You're not leaving this room." He turns to go into the bathroom.

"Why not!" I cry before I can stop myself.

He turns slowly, eyes slowly filling with the insane fury I've become so accustomed to. "Are you talking back to me?" He steps towards me.

I can only step back a few paces before my back is against the wall. "No," I say quickly, keeping my eyes averted.

He stops directly in front of me, then pulls my chin up so he can meet my eyes. Not even my strongest shields are able to keep out his invasion. No! Out! Get out! He can't see-

"You little back-stabber." His grip tightens on my chin. "You'd dare to go against me? You'd dare to help Potter and his little friends get rid of me?"

"No," I whisper, eyes wide. _'Potter! Get out of Brazil!'_ I scream down the light in my mind. If he kills Potter, Potter can't kill him.

His hand wraps around my throat, inhumanly tight. "It's a good thing I happen to have one last Horcrux, my pet."

I stare at him in shock. Another one? But, how?

His lip-less mouth curls up into a terrifying smile. "Why, you, of course, pet. Why else would I keep you alive?"

What?

The last thing I'm aware of is my head hitting the wall behind me, and then-

Blackness...

-/-

-/-

**A/N:** It'll all be over soon... -le sigh-

Sorry it took a little longer than expected. I got kinda depressed and lazy... -sweatdrop-

Reviews Sustenance  
Bats


	4. Failure?

**Title:** Riddle's "Little" Problem  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Beta:** Me. -smiles innocently-  
**Rating:** hard R  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Tom Riddle(non-con)  
**Warnings:** Rape(non-graphic), physical violence, serious death threats, war, slash  
**Summary:** An accident has separated Tom Riddle from Lord Voldemort. What will the Dark Lord do now that he's free from Tom's conscious? How much will Tom have to suffer at the hand of his other half? And what can Harry Potter do to help?

**Disclaim Her:** -poke, poke-

-/-

_Failure? _

-/-

I wake in the dungeons. It's cold down here, and the thin night-robe I've taken to wearing is certainly not keeping me warm.

Where's Voldemort?

I glance up and see a pale, pointed face looking back at me. The Malfoy whelp.

"Severus!"

His voice is loud in the silence and I can't help but wince. I'll bet my life that there's dried blood on the back of my head. Damned monster.

Hurried footsteps sound and Severus comes into sight. There is concern in his eyes, though the rest of his face is a mask of indifference. I can't help the patronizing smile that I feel at my lips. Severus doesn't care about _anything_. Except maybe the whelp.

"My Lord, how do you feel?" he asks.

I frown at the concern in his voice. "I've been worse. Where's Voldemort?" I respond, wincing at how my voice cracks. It would figure that I'd get sick while locked up in my own dungeons.

"He went for Potter," Malfoy replies.

My eyes widen and I reach out for the thread of light that connects me to Potter. It's still there, but I can't touch it. So he's found a way to block our chats. Lovely.

"My Lord?"

I glance back up at Severus tiredly. "Go back to your duties. He'll murder you if he catches you here," I point out. Morpheus seems to want me back, and he isn't this cell, so he seems a much better decision.

"As you wish, my Lord," Severus bows, then leaves.

Malfoy takes up a position to one side of the cell. So he's here to guard me.

Not that I need the guarding. He blocked my magic too.

Curse him.

-/-

"Fuck you all!"

I glance up tiredly and find that Weasley's been thrown into my cell. "Fabulous."

"This is all your fault!" he screams, turning on me.

I offer him a bored stare. "Feel free to beat me to a pulp while you're busy accusing me of shit, Weasley."

"You-you-you..."

"I what?" I sneer at him. Three days of being locked up in a dungeon cell with only enough food to keep me alive has not left me in a very pleasant mood.

"You-"

"You talk too much, Weasley," he calls from the other side of the cell's bars.

"You!" Weasley turns on my other half.

I hurry to my feet and grab Weasley. The last thing we need is him attacking Voldemort. "What do you want now?" I ask him evenly.

Voldemort smirks and beckons to me. "Come here, pet."

"You le-"

I slam a hand over Weasley's mouth. "Shut up before you get yourself killed," I hiss in his ear.

"That's cute. You're trying to protect him, aren't you, pet?" Voldemort calls through the bars, smiling at us patronizingly.

Only my hand keeps Weasley from replying, I believe, and I offer my other half a scowl. "What do you want?"

"Come here," he repeats, motioning for me to walk up to the bars.

"Tell me what you want," I shoot back, narrowing my eyes. If he's not going to tell me what he wants, I'm not moving.

His mouth curls into a cold smile. "I want your little arse in my bed. Now get over here."

I stare at him in shock. Is he insane!

"Fuck off, you sick bastard!" Weasley's voice drags me from my shock. I find that he's gotten out of my grasp and is standing in front of me protectively, shockingly enough.

Voldemort aims his wand at Weasley and I quickly move between them, giving my other half a cold look. "Go away."

"_Crucio_," he intones. I easily keep from screaming, he's not trying very hard. "Now, get over here," he orders once he's lifted the curse.

Weasley kneels next to me, placing himself between Voldemort and myself. "Here." He slips something into my hand, then glares up at Voldemort. "Sick fuck."

"_Crucio_."

I wince, but use the distraction I know Weasley caused on purpose to hide the small tracer in one of the pockets of my robe. Granger must have thought that one up, since I doubt Potter or Weasley would have been creative enough.

"Now, pet," he orders once he's ended the curse, leaving Weasley laying on the ground of the cell, breathing heavily.

I rest my hand on Weasley's shoulder for a brief moment before standing and walking up to the bars of the cell. This is our last chance.

Voldemort lets me out, then forces me into a kiss - probably to tick Weasley off. I allow it - he's pissed off enough as it is - then follow him when he drags me from the dungeons.

On our way up, I see the Malfoy whelp and give him a quick look before we pass. I can only hope that he catches the message I tried to pass through it. Weasley could do with an ally down here, even if it was an ally that didn't like him in the least.

Death Eaters stop to stare as he drags me past. I know they're wondering who I am. Very few know what I looked like in my youth. If not for Dumbledore, Severus never would have found out, most likely.

But none dare to ask. Only fools question Voldemort. Fools and Gryffindors, like Weasley. And myself, I suppose.

The half-blood fool.

He pushes the door to our bedroom open and throws me in. I wince as I hit the floor with a fair bit of force. Oh, he's certainly not pleased.

The door slams behind him. "You dared to question me?"

I glare up at him. "Am I not allowed to question myself now?" I shoot back viscously.

"I'm _nothing_ like you, you little Mudblood!" His foot connects with my side.

I scoot away from him, holding my side carefully. Yay for suicide missions! "You _are_ me, you bastard!"

"_Crucio_!"

I thrash under the curse, doing my damnest to swallow my screams. Great. It actually _hurts_ this time.

The curse ends suddenly and he walks over. "I know what you're trying to do, pet," he offers in a honeyed voice, leaning over me. "It's not going to work, you know."

I spit in his face.

His hand slams across my face and I can't help the hiss of pain. "I am going to make you hurt so bad for that," he informs me before pulling away. "Get undressed."

"Make me," I call, grasping the tracer in one hand. Once it leaves the area of my body heat, it will activate. Hopefully, Potter will be watching so he can activate it on his side right away. I really don't care to be raped again, thanks.

Voldemort grabs my throat and pulls me to my feet. "You're only making this harder for yourself, pet," he informs me.

I throw the tracer with one hand as I kick out at him.

He apparently decides to ignore the kick, since he starts pulling my robe off instead.

The moment my robe falls to the ground, Voldemort freezes, eyes on mine. Pain dances in the scarlet eyes for a long moment before he sinks to the ground.

Potter stands over my other half's body, a dagger in one hand. Granger is standing behind him, one hand over her mouth. I glance down at Voldemort's dead body, not sure whether I should be celebrating or crying.

"Tom?"

I step around Voldemort and walk over to my wardrobe. Mine. Not ours. He's dead now. It's just mine. Not his, not anymore.

"Tom?"

What to wear. What to wear. I could wear that green robe. It looks better on me than it does on him. Did. He's dead.

"Tom, are you oka-"

"No, I'm not okay," I murmur before Potter can finish his question. I pull the green robe from the wardrobe. It will do.

"How can we help?" Potter asks quietly, setting a hand on my shoulder.

I pull away sharply. "For the last _fucking time_! Don't _touch me_!" I glare at him.

Potter just purses his lips. "Come off it, Tom."

I slip into the robe quickly, then push past the brat to his dead body. His wand is in his left pocket, as I'd expected, and I turn to Potter with it raised.

"No!" Granger immediately jumps in front of Potter.

I give the Muggle-born a bored look. "Either I cast a Glamour on him or let the Death Eaters kill him. Move."

Granger shifts to one side warily. "Only a Glamour."

I consider casting the Glamour with the wand movements for the Cruciatus, but decide against it when I see Granger's wand poking out from the sleeve of her robe. "_Glamourie_," I intone, then smile to myself as it works. I'd almost expected my magic to still be blocked. Of course, I can now also touch the line of light that passes between Potter and myself, so it would be only logical that I could cast spells again.

Potter points his wand at me and I freeze. "_Sanesco_."

The throbbing in both my side and my cheek disappear. I blink a few times at smiling green eyes before turning to Granger and casting another Glamour. "Let's go get Weasley," I grumble before turning from both Gryffindors and walking from the room.

When the Death Eaters stare at us this time, I give them deadly looks and they look away. I may not _look_ like Voldemort, but I can certainly _glare_ like him.

The Malfoy whelp and Severus stand outside Weasley's cell, arguing with a couple of cloaked Death Eaters over torturing the boy when we get there. Seeing as how I hardly care about doing anything but getting out of this damned building, I aim my wand at the two backs and whisper, "_Avada Kedavra_."

"Tom!" Potter's voice comes from behind me as the two Death Eaters fall to the ground in a heap.

"Don't you 'Tom' me, Potter," I hiss over my shoulder. "Open that cell," I add to Severus, who moves quickly to comply.

Potter's hand falls down on my shoulder and he swings me around. "I'm going to break your wand next time you cast that spell."

"I'm going to break your neck if you don't _stop touching me_," I hiss back.

Potter lets go immediately. "Give me your wand."

"What! No!" I hide my wand behind my back. I don't really care if I'm acting like a child. I just got this back, I'm _not_ letting go of it again any time soon. Not even for Potter.

Nimble fingers pick my wand from my fingers as Granger hurries past us to check on Weasley. "Ron!"

"Give that back!" I call, spinning.

Severus gives me a strange look. "What now, my Lord?"

"He's not anyone's lord, now," Weasley points out with a crooked grin. I glare at him.

Potter steps up next to me, expression flat. "Snape, Malfoy, I'm giving the both of you a head start. I'd suggest leaving the country, personally."

"What about Lor-Tom?" Malfoy asks, looking lost.

"Without his help, we never would have gotten rid of Voldemort," Granger murmurs. "He's a hero."

"He's as much the Dark Lord as the man you killed," Severus points out.

Potter turns to me. "Do you want to take over the world, Tom?"

I stare at him. Do I? Not really. Voldemort was always the one who wanted that, now that I think about it. I just want to read some books. Who cares about the world? I shake my head faintly in response to Potter's question.

Potter turns to Severus as Granger speaks up, "Tom Riddle and Voldemort are two halves of the same person. Tom's the half that doesn't care so much about taking over the world and would prefer studying while Voldemort is the half that wants to hurt others and destroy everything in sight. Together, they are pretty much unbeatable, as Tom can strategize and find new spells while Voldemort has the drive to act on the knowledge and doesn't care so much about others' lives. Right?" She glances over at me.

I nod. "You got it in one."

Granger shrugs. "Harry's the one that figured it all out."

"It didn't make half as much sense when I said it earlier," Potter mutters, looking down at his feet.

Severus nods. "Very well. Come, Draco. We need to find your mother and let her know we're leaving," he decides before bowing to me. "Good luck with these..._Gryffindors_, my Lord."

I nod. "Go."

Severus leads Malfoy past me with hurried steps and I turn to watch them leave.

"What are we going to do with Tom?" Weasley asks in a poor version of a whisper to his friends.

"Tom?"

I glance back at the three. "Yes, Potter?"

Potter smiles. "Would you like to return to Hogwarts with us? I'm sure you'll find that there's a Defence Against the Dark Arts position there for you if you'd like to take it."

I blink a few times before shaking my head. "Minerva will never agree."

"You don't know until you try," Granger points out, also smiling.

"I mean, _we'll_ vouch for you," Weasley agrees, grinning.

"Come on." Potter motions for me to come over to them. "Wouldn't you like to come home?"

"Fine. But only because Granger still has my wand," I decide. Then I cross the distance between us and allow Potter to take my hand. Together, we Apparate away.

-/-

-/-

**A/N:** It's not over yet, my friends - and you're all going to hate me soooooooo much next chapter... XD

That was anti-climatic. -.-

On another note:  
AHAHAH! I laugh at you ALL! All those panicked reviews about me having to kill off Tom made me laugh so hard.  
Think about it this way: when Tom and Voldemort split, they would have both received half of their original soul(about 1/14th of a soul, for those of you who are as good with math as I am...), making them each other's Horcrux. So, yes, Tom was Voldemort's Horcrux, but, in the same manner, Voldemort was Tom's Horcrux.  
Feeling better now?

Feed the author!  
Bats


	5. Seventh Year Begins

**Title:** Riddle's "Little" Problem  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Beta:** Me. -smiles innocently-  
**Rating:** hard R  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Tom Riddle(non-con), Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny  
**Warnings:** Rape(non-graphic), physical violence, serious death threats, war, slash, het  
**Summary:** An accident has separated Tom Riddle from Lord Voldemort. What will the Dark Lord do now that he's free from Tom's conscious? How much will Tom have to suffer at the hand of his other half? And what can Harry Potter do to help?

**Disclaim Her:** Meehee. Harry/Ginny. I'm evil. XD

**A/N:** I'm shit at Hagrid's accent... -.-

-/-

_Seventh Year Begins_

-/-

As Minerva hadn't had any other applicants for the position, she hired me. She did have conditions, though. I had to sign a magical contract saying that I couldn't harm any students, for one. Another condition was that I had to stay on Hogwarts' grounds. There was also one forbidding me from owling people outside the school or receiving any owls that weren't the _Prophet_ or pre-approved. I agreed to all of the conditions, of course, since I _did_ want to return to Hogwarts and I had nothing better to do, really.

Few of the other teachers knew who I was, so there were few problems. However, Potter had to run after Hagrid and calm him down over a cup of tea after the half-giant saw me one morning when I was walking to breakfast. Slughorn also reacted badly to my presence, though Minerva easily handled that one.

And so, the last few days of summer vacation went by with a fair amount of calm. Since Potter wanted to go through his last year in peace, Granger, Weasley, and I all agreed to not mention the death of Voldemort. This meant that the Death Eaters continued attacking, but we all figured that, without a leader, they'd soon fall apart. Of course, we could be wrong...

"No one was as bad as You-'now-Who," Hagrid says. Potter had dragged me out to settle old differences with the half-giant a few days ago and we've slowly been creating a friendship since then. Right now we're sitting out by the lake with some sandwiches and pumpkin juice, chatting like old friends.

"That hardly makes me feel any better."

"Tom." Hagrid sighs. "You knew tha o'er Death Eaters better 'n anyone. Are any of 'em gonna pose a threat?"

I shrug. "Bella, maybe. She's crazy enough..."

"Crazy and in'enious aren't tha same thing."

"I suppose you're right."

" 'Course I'm right." Hagrid stands with a smile. "You s'ould go get ready. Train'll be 'ere soon."

"Of course." I pull myself to my feet and cast a quick spell to send all the picnic things back to the kitchen. "I'll talk to you later, Rubeus."

"Awright. Bye, Tom." Hagrid waves at me before wandering off into the woods to gather the thestrals for the carriages.

I head back towards the castle. It's nice to be back, I suppose, but things get rather boring after a while. Especially today, as Potter, Granger, and Weasley all left late last night so they could ride the train in the morning with their friends. Despite the three being Gryffindors, they're good for boredom. Weasley plays a mean game of chess that's challenging to even me. Granger likes to read everything in sight, making her good for intellectual conversation. Potter's good for a good duel or coming up with curriculum for this school year.

Of course, it helps that they'll actually _talk_ to me.

Minerva refuses to talk with me about anything other than school business and Slughorn spends all of his free time avoiding me. Hagrid and I are still wary around each other and the other teachers have picked up on the caution of the few staff members who know me and generally keep a good distance between myself and them.

I slam my door after stepping into my room, not that anyone will hear it. Just a childish need to make some noise. I step up to my wardrobe and pull it open. I need to find a nice, _professional_ robe for the feast tonight. I'm sure I have some. Potter and Weasley took me shopping in Hogsmeade last week, since I'd been forced to leave all my belongings behind at the base when we left. I dare say they had fun telling me what robes to get. I argued against more robes in those two hours than I have in my whole life. Why they thought I would actually buy _Gryffindor_ colours, I don't know.

I pull out the same green robe I'd worn from the base. It's all I have left of my old life, other than my wand. It also looks nicer than most of the other robes I own, as it's "Dark Lord-style" - as Weasley put it - rather than "normal people-style". Might as well make a good first impression.

-/-

"Hey, Tom!"

I glance up at the door to my office. "I thought you weren't going to call me that."

Potter's grin just widens and he steps into the room. "I came to introduce you to someone."

I let out a heavy sigh and set my quill down. I'll never get these tests graded at this rate. "Very well, Potter. Which of your friends do you plan on forcing upon me this time?"

"No, Harry, if he doesn't-"

"Come on, Ginny." Potter rolls his eyes and tugs a girl with brilliant red hair into the room. Another Weasley, if I've ever seen one. "This, Tom, is Ginny Weasley, my girlfriend!"

"That's lovely." I pick my quill back up. "I have tests to grade, if you don't mind," I say shortly. Why am I upset all of a sudden? I don't understand myself some times.

"Tom, what is it?" Potter's voice is concerned.

I refuse to look up at him. "Good evening, Mr Potter."

"Come on, Harry. Let Professor Riddle work," the girl urges.

After a moment I hear the door close and let out a heavy sigh. What was that all about?

-/-

Every time I see Miss Weasley after Potter first introduced us, I feel this urge to wring her neck. Why does her presence bother me so? I haven't figured it out yet, and I have no one to talk to about it. Hagrid, Potter, Weasley, and Granger are still the only people who treat me like a human being, rather than a plague that's just there to cause a mess or a Professor whom none of the other Professors like.

I consider seeking out Granger to ask about such things - she's a woman, surely she understands feelings better than a male would - but every time I see her of late, she and Weasley are attached somewhere, usually at the lips. Potter, also, spends much of his time connected to his girlfriend. It's disturbing how many of the elder students are dating. Only the elder Slytherins are not following in this pattern, and that's most likely because most of them did not return this year. Death Eater parents are being very careful with their off-spring, it seems. I wonder if they've found his body yet.

A knock at my office door drags me from my thoughts. "Come in."

Shaggy black hair pops around the door. "Professor Riddle, I was wondering if you could help me with this assignment."

I give Potter an exasperated look. "You _can't_ be having problems in my class, Potter."

Potter shrugs. "I'm not. I was just hoping you could help me with Transfiguration. Professor Kettleburn doesn't explain stuff very well and Professor McGonagall is too busy for me to ask her..."

"Fine, fine." I wave him in. "What is Kettleburn hoping you'll learn?"

Potter grins and slides into the chair on the other side of my desk. "We're supposed to be learning how to transfigure a pigeon out of thin air."

"Is the man mad!" I rub at my nose as Potter laughs. "Did he have you all go over what you learned last year before asking you to do such insane things?"

"Nope. Hermione said the same thing when he gave us the assignment last week, actually," Potter replies, obviously amused.

I stand. "Oh, come on."

Potter gives me a strange look. "What?"

"You're the fifth student who I've heard complaining about Kettleburn. The fact that Granger is having problems with him isn't helping any."

Potter hurries from his chair and falls into step with me as I step from my office. "Where are we going, then?"

"The Headmistress."

"Tom, she doesn't need to worry about finding a new Transfiguration teacher right now," Potter sighs.

"Then she can tell Flitwick to find one for her. He's the Deputy, he should be helping out some," I reply shortly.

"I'm sure he _is_ helping out," Potter groans, resting a hand on my arm.

I jerk away and stop to give him a cold look. "Don't touch me. If you don't want to accompany me, then you can go back to your little girlfriend," I spit, then spin and quicken my pace.

"Tom! Argh!" I hear Potter's bag hitting the ground with a fair bit of force, but don't bother to look back.

"Phoenix," I offer to the gargoyle guarding Minerva's office. When it moves to one side, I step onto the winding stairs and allow them to carry me up.

Just before I get to the door, a hand grabs my arm and spins me around. "What the _fuck_ is your problem, Tom?"

I pull away from him. "Leave me alone." I turn around and knock on Minerva's door before Potter can speak again.

The door opens and I find myself face-to-face with Rufus Scrimgeour of all people. "Ah! Harry!"

"Hello, Minister," Potter offers coldly.

I narrow my eyes but, before I can speak, Minerva appears. "Tom, Mr Potter, what can I do for you?"

"I need a word with you, Minerva," I reply. "Mr Potter was just accompanying me."

"Well then. You don't mind if I borrow Harry for a moment, do you?" Scrimgeour inquires brightly.

I most _certainly_ don't like this man. "I don't mind, no, though I do believe Mr Potter does," I offer coldly. "Why don't you ask _him_, rather than _me_. _I'm_ not his father."

"Thank God for that," Minerva mutters. I shoot her an annoyed look.

Scrimgeour offers Potter a bright smile. "What do you say, Harry? A chat over tea?"

"No, thank you," Harry replies stiffly. "While Tom feels he doesn't need me, I know better. Good day, Minister."

Minerva covers a smile with one hand as the Minister looks between Potter and myself with evident shock on his face. "Tom, Mr Potter, why don't you two come in?"

"Gladly," I mutter before stepping into the office. Potter follows me quickly and we both take seats as Minerva finishes kicking Scrimgeour out.

"I hate that man," Potter announces once Minerva has also taken her seat.

"Why?" I glance over at him, curious.

"Bad past." Potter shrugs uncaringly.

I decide not to comment on the face that the past they had together couldn't possibly be as bad as the past between Potter and myself, turning, instead, to Minerva. "I come with complaints about Kettleburn."

Minerva lets out a heavy sigh. "Not you _too_."

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"Filius and Pomona have also been complaining about him," Minerva sighs. "I'm expecting Horace up here any day now."

"What sorts of complaints do they have, Professor?" Potter inquires.

"He's not doing his duties, he gives random points to the Gryffindors and takes away random points from the other Houses. The same sorts of reports we always used to get about Severus."

"Nothing about his teaching inability?" I ask.

Minerva gives me a hopeless look. "Please don't tell me he can't teach."

"Even Hermione is having issues with his teaching methods," Potter offers apologetically. "And Tom says he's overheard other students complaining about his class."

I nod. "I understand that you're busy, Minerva, but something needs to be done about Kettleburn."

"Are you sure there's no one else? No one from the Ministry, or the Order?" Potter asks, apparently trying to help Minerva think of someone.

"No. Everyone's too busy dealing with the Death Eater attacks and trying to find You-Know-Who's base."

Potter and I trade looks. Maybe it's time we came clean.

"Professor, I have a confession," Potter murmurs, twiddling his fingers in his lap.

Minerva gives Potter an exasperated look. "What is it, Potter?"

"Voldemort's dead."

Minerva stares at Potter in shock for a long moment. "What do you mean?"

I step in with ease. "Exactly what he said. Voldemort has been dead for almost a month now."

Minerva gives me an accusing look. "You knew about all this and didn't say anything?"

"I told him not to, Professor," Potter hurries to add. "Hermione and Ron also know, but I made them promise not to tell."

"And why didn't you see it fit to mention this before, Potter?" Minerva asks, voice icy.

"I wanted a normal school year, for once," Potter replies in the same chilled tone, meeting Minerva's eyes evenly.

"If you'd told us earlier that he was dead, we could have ended this war already."

"Could you?" I ask sharply. "Do you think the Death Eaters would have stepped back just because the rest of the world knows Voldemort is dead? I'm sure they're quite aware that he's dead and rotted by now, yet they still attack your world constantly."

"Tom..." Potter's hand covers my own.

I slap him away. "If you touch me again, Potter, I'll hex you."

"I dare you to try!"

"If you insis-"

"Gentlemen!" Minerva calls, then glares at us when we turn back to her. "You're both adults, please act like it. Now, Potter, what _really_ happened that night you supposedly went into You-Know-Who's base to free Mr Weasley?"

Potter balks at answering, and I know why. He's very careful about not mentioning the abuse I received at the hand of my other half. Even when he had to explain the reason for freeing me along with Weasley, he skirted around the issue, saying I looked half-dead in the cell I'd been forced to share with Weasley, having not been fed very much.

"Simple," I answer, keeping my voice and face emotionless. "Mr Weasley gave me the tracer Miss Granger had provided him with earlier when Voldemort dragged me off to his room. I activated the tracer while Voldemort was in the process of punishing me for back-talking to him and Potter stabbed him in the back with some ritual knife he got from Dumbledore."

Minerva gives me a stern look. "He punished you?" she says flatly.

I bare my teeth at her. "Yes."

"What did he do, Tom? Smack you a few times?" she says with a touch of old rivalries in her voice.

"No, Minerva," I reply in the same tone. "He cast the Cruciatus on me and raped me."

Minerva rears back, as if struck. "I-"

I stand. "Do something about Kettleburn, please. It's pathetic when Potter comes to me for help on Transfiguration," I say coldly before spinning and stalking from the room.

Scrimgeour is standing outside the office door, obviously trying to hear through the Silencing Globes that incase the room. "All done, then?" he asks cheerfully.

I give him the same look I'd once given to Death Eaters who asked stupid questions. "I believe you were told to leave the school grounds, Minister. Would you like me to show you the way out?"

Scrimgeour turns and hurries down the slowly turning stair. I congratulate myself for a job well done with the man, then follow him down the staircase and return to my bedroom. I don't feel like seeing Potter again today.

-/-

I stare at the morning _Prophet_ in shock. The front page is totally dedicated to the story of Voldemort's death. The most shocking part, I believe, is that I'm given a fair amount of credit for his death, as are both Weasley and Granger. I glance over at the Gryffindor Table and notice that Potter doesn't look at all comfortable with the mass of admirers surrounding him.

Minerva stands and the Hall silences. "I'd like to make a toast to four very brave and cunning people this morning. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Professor Tom Riddle. It is thanks to you four that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is dead."

Everyone around the Hall also raises their glasses. I decide scowling at the _Prophet_ before me is more useful than acknowledging praise which I don't deserve. Potter would have done just fine without me, he just would have taken a bit longer. In fact, I was just in the way most of the time.

"Classes are cancelled for today," Minerva calls once the toast is over. "Please enjoy the nice day."

Once the Hall fills with the normal noises of hundreds of students conversing again, I slip out the teacher's exit and flee to the safety of my bedroom.

-/-

When I step into the Great Hall at dinner, I have to stop for a few minutes to stare. Scrimgeour and his entourage are seated at the Head Table with the other professors, Potter, Granger, Mr and Miss Weasley. Reporters are flocking the whole Hall, interviewing students, professors, and Ministry-workers alike.

I'm just considering eating in the kitchens when Potter's voice sounds in my mind, _'If I have to suffer through all this, so do you. Get over here.'_

I walk up to the seat Potter has saved me between himself and Hagrid and sit stiffly. "Happy?"

"Yes." He doesn't look up at me from his plate. "Eat something."

"Don't mother me," I mutter, pulling over some food to fill my plate with.

Hagrid grins at me. " 'E wouldn't 'ave ta mother ya if ya'd eaten earlier."

I give Hagrid and exasperated look. "I wasn't _hungry_ earlier. I'm not now, either."

Potter waves my fork in my face, some beans attached to the pronged end. "Eat, Tom."

I snatch my fork from him and proceed to nibble on my food. "Happy?"

"No." Potter gives me a dark look. "Because that's nibbling, not eating."

"Harry, let him do what he wants," Miss Weasley urges from his other side. "Here comes another reporter with a camera. Smile!"

I scowl as the flash goes off in my face, and I can tell that Potter isn't very pleased either. "Harry! And this must be Tom Riddle!" an annoying, female voice calls out.

"Hello, Rita," Potter says tiredly.

The woman turns to me. "I've already heard from Harry plenty, so why don't we hear from you tonight, Tom?" she says brightly. "What did you think about You-Know-Who?"

I give the woman a cold look. "First off, I have not given you permission to refer to me by my first name and I expect you won't be doing it again. Second, call him _Voldemort_, you incompitant woman. Third, I do not like reporters. In fact, the last one that tried to interview me found himself on the wrong side of my wand. Now, go away before I hex you." I return my attention to my dinner.

Both Potter and Hagrid start laughing. It seems they both found my little speech amusing. The reporter, however, sniffs and stalks off, her cameraman following like a sad puppy.

Granger leans forward and gives me an amused look from around Miss Weasley and Potter. "She's going to make your life hell for that, Tom."

I shrug. "If it means they'll leave me alone, all the better. Reporters are like cockroaches: kill one and five take its place."

Weasley gives me an incredulous look. "Why were you killing reporters?"

I blink at him innocently. "They're annoying."

Weasley snorts. "I'll give you that."

"Oh, come on, Tom." Granger laughs. "You shouldn't go about killing people, even reporters."

I smirk. "Did you know that there are no Death Eater reporters?"

"What, did Voldemort kill any that approached him?" Potter teases.

"You bet. He found great pleasure in making them scream." I offer them a wide-eyed look, which gets another laugh from Potter, Granger, and Weasley. Miss Weasley doesn't look too pleased with the whole thing.

"Tom, you're horrible!" Potter informs me.

"I know." I beam at him.

"Oh, eat your food, you prat."

-/-

I can't help but laugh at the morning's edition of the _Daily Prophet_. The front-page article is all about how I'm probably a Death Eater that's worming my way into Potter's trust after having helped him defeat "You-Know-Who".

_'Is this the worst she could do?'_ I inquire of Potter, who is also laughing at the article. _'I think I would have been more offended if she suggested I **was** Voldemort.'_

_'And, hell, she would have been closer to the truth if she'd suggested you were Voldemort,'_ Potter replies.

I tap my chin. _'I suppose this would insult a Light wizard, now that I think about it.'_

_'But you're hardly Light, so it doesn't bother you in the least,'_ Potter agrees.

Minerva steps up next to me. "Be glad you're not allowed to receive outside mail, Tom. You've got quite a pile of hate mail going upstairs," she murmurs.

I grin. "This is fun. I should piss off reporters more often."

Minerva lets out a snort. "I should allow you to receive all those letters, shouldn't I?"

"Target practise," I respond, still grinning. This is all too amusing for words.

Minerva shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're a nighmare, Tom Riddle," she informs me before walking over to her seat.

Slughorn slides into the empty seat next to me. "I see you've been demoted, Tom."

I snort and give him an amused look. "I see you're talking to me again."

"I suppose so, yes."

I shrug. "It's a pity I can't owl people."

"Who do you want to owl?" Slughorn gives me a weary look.

"Rita Skeeter." I wave the _Prophet_ around a bit. "It would be fun to tell her that I was hardly a measly Death Eater."

Slughorn stares at me for a long moment in shock before he starts laughing. "This is why I liked you, Tom! Such a sense of humour!"

I grin.

-/-

A knocking on my door wakes me. "Whozit?" I call from my favourite place to sleep: the couch.

The door pokes open, warning me that it's someone who actually knows my password. "Are you decent?"

I sit up with an annoyed look. "Get in here, Potter."

Potter hops into the room, closing the door behind him, and offers me a nervous smile. "Hello."

"Why are you waking me up at one o'clock in the bloody morning?" I inquire darkly after checking the time on the clock over the fireplace.

Potter shrugs. "Just came to chat."

I sigh and make room for him on the couch. "Sit." I wait until he's sat to ask the next question, "Now, why are you really here?"

"I can't sleep in the Tower. Ron and Hermione disappeared earlier and I have to fend for myself against everyone, even Ginny," Potter admits, eyes on his hands in his lap.

"What do you want me to do about it?" I ask.

Potter shrugs. "Can I stay here for tonight?"

"Feel free. You can have my bed, if you'd like."

"Thanks, Tom," he replies with a huge amount of relief as he stands.

"No problem," I murmur, laying back down on the couch and closing my eyes.

Soft lips press against my forehead, but I'm too tired to care. It feels kind of nice, actually...

-/-

-/-

**A/N:** -cackles- I made Ginny a bit of a bitch in this one. It's fun. XD

It's Tinker Day! -dances- Happy Tinker Day, everyone!  
(And, yes, that means absolute nonsense to all of you, I know. It's a holiday that they do every year at my campus. Day free from classes and a proper breakfast. Pure heaven. XP)

Feed me!  
Bats


	6. Hogsmeade Surprise

**Title:** Riddle's "Little" Problem  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Beta:** Me. -smiles innocently-  
**Rating:** hard R  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Tom Riddle(non-con), Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny  
**Warnings:** Rape(non-graphic), physical violence, serious death threats, war, slash, het  
**Summary:** An accident has separated Tom Riddle from Lord Voldemort. What will the Dark Lord do now that he's free from Tom's conscious? How much will Tom have to suffer at the hand of his other half? And what can Harry Potter do to help?

**Disclaim Her:** Bucky hit Rob on the head!

-/-

_Hogsmeade Surprise_

-/-

Potter spends a little over a month sleeping in my room at night. It probably would have lasted longer, but Miss Weasley threw a small hissy fit, so Potter started spending his nights with her.

I hate her more than ever.

Minerva tells me that I'm still getting hate mail from that article. I still find it impossibly funny. Slughorn and I laugh about it constantly. In fact, I'm a bit grateful for that article. I'd forgotten how entertaining Slughorn could be, and we probably never would have settled our differences if not for that article.

Minerva has also loosened up around me a bit. We still stick to mostly school-related topics, but one of us will bring up the occasional amusing story from our school days and we'll laugh over it.

The Ministry supplied us with an Auror by the name of Kingsley Shacklebolt to teach Transfiguration. He is an okay fellow, very quiet, and he actually knows how to teach. However, his appointment left Minerva without a Head of Gryffindor, as none of the other teachers were in Gryffindor during their school career - other than Hagrid, who had his hands full with being the Keeper of the Grounds and Keys as it was. After a long and quite involved staff meeting, it was somehow decided that _I_ would sit in as Head of Gryffindor for the time being, as I already got on quite well with a number of Gryffindors, despite being a Slytherin myself. I'm still not quite certain how that worked out, actually.

With my elevation to Head of Gryffindor, Minerva also gave me permission to go to Hogsmeade if I so wished, which is why I'm enjoying a bottle of butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks today. The pub is packed, seeing as how it's also a Hogsmeade weekend, but that hardly bothers me.

"Tom!" Granger and Weasley slip into the other side of the booth I'd nicked earlier.

"Hello, pests," I offer fondly, smiling at them. Both are dressed warmly for the winter weather outside, their cheeks and noses rosy.

"How's it feel to be in Hogsmeade?" Weasley asks as Granger gets up to get them a couple of butterbeers.

"Amazingly freeing," I reply with a sigh. "I don't think I've ever been so glad to see this town."

"I know the feeling." Weasley groans. "School's a real nightmare."

I chuckle. "Surely not that bad."

"Hey, I'm not as good in school as you were," Weasley complains in response.

"Well, maybe if you'd-" I freeze as I catch sight of a face I know all too well.

"Tom?"

"Are there any Aurors here today? Do you know?" I ask quietly, keeping my eyes on Bella's back.

"I don't think so. Most of them are too busy tracking down runaway Death Eaters. Why?"

Bella motions to someone else and I recognize Fenrir Greyback. "Shit. Because we've got Death Eaters in Hogsmeade."

Weasley's eyes widen and he stands slowly. "I'll send up a quiet warning."

I nod. "Be careful. They'll all know your face by now."

"I know." He disappears into the crowd.

I keep my eyes on Bella and Fenrir. It's a bit surprising that they're daring to show their faces here. Of course, they could be expecting that no one would really recognize them until too late. It's a pity I know them both so well.

Suddenly, shouting starts outside. Before either Bella or Fenrir can move to attack, I shoot a couple of stunners at them. The one aimed at Fenrir hits, but Bella moves quickly enough out of the way that the other misses. "Well, well. If it isn't the Master's pet," she coos.

"You shouldn't talk about yourself that way, Bella. It's degrading," I shoot back.

Bella lets out a furious growl, but is hit from behind by a stunner before she can attack. Granger gives me an annoyed look as she threads through the panicked crowd towards me. "Why were you aggravating her?" she sighs as we hurry to the door together.

"Hey, she started it," I reply.

As soon as we get out the door, I'm forced to throw up a shield to block a rather nasty Dark curse. "Teach me that spell later," Granger whispers before ducking down and running in one direction while I run in the other, both of us tossing stunners at the mass of Death Eaters that have appeared on the street.

I'm actually a bit surprised at the number of students who are also running, ducking, and casting spells. When Weasley said he was going to send out a warning, he meant it. The students reacted faster than the teachers who had come, actually.

"_Crucio!_" I feel the curse hit me and spin around to send a Slashing Hex at the caster. If he wants to play dirty, I'll play right back. When he howls with pain, I back my hex up with a stunner, then start moving again.

Basic survival skills. Keep low and keep moving.

The Death Eaters are dropping like flies in the centre of the street, what with students, professors, and towns-people fighting back. If I had still been in charge of those idiots, they wouldn't have been attacking on a Hogsmeade weekend, if at all!

Then the reinforcements come. Inferi start walking down the street, looking quite dead, but in a terrifying way. And, fuck, I can't tell them to go away because that would most likely be evidence that I'm Voldemort. Damnit.

A familiar hand rests on my arm. "You cover me, I'll get them to leave, right?"

Relief washes over me. "For once, Potter, I'm glad you're a Parselmouth. Let's go."

Potter nods and starts across the quickly emptying expanse of street that rests between the incoming Inferi and the dwindling mass of Death Eaters. I move quickly to block any spells sent at the boy. As soon as he gets in range, Potter starts hissing at the Inferi, **:Turn around and go back. There is nothing here for you. Go back.:**

Slowly, some of the Inferi start turning around and leaving, but a good number still continue forwards, forcing both Potter and myself closer and closer to the waiting Death Eaters.

_'Tom! Now what!'_ Potter cries in my mind.

_'Fuck it all. Trade. Only I can get rid of them.'_

_'But-'_

_'Potter, if you don't let me try, we'll both be dead. I'll handle the Ministry's questions just fine.'_

_'...fine...'_

We trade quickly. _'Now, get out of the street,'_ I order, stopping in front of the oncoming Inferi.

_'Are you insane!'_

_'Get out of the fucking street, Potter!'_ I shout. He hurries out of the street as the crowd of Inferi washes over me. They all step around me, as if I don't exist. And, to them, I don't, as I am their maker and, therefore, untouchable. **:Take out those before you:** I hiss coldly.

Screams start from the Death Eaters as the Inferi start attacking.

_'Tom! What are you doing!'_ Harry's voice slams through my mind.

_'I'm dealing with a problem. Shut up.'_

_'I didn't mean for you to kill the Death Eaters!'_

_'And why not! They would have gladly killed everyone here!'_

_'Make them stop! Now!'_

"_Ad Mortem Dare Manes_!" I call, letting my magic wash over the street and all the creations I'd once made. As they all drop, I turn and meet Potter's gaze. _'Happy?'_

_'No.'_

I turn away. _'Fine.'_

The Aurors start Apparating in then. A couple come over to me while I'm busy looking over a few of the Inferi. "What spell did you use?" one of them inquires.

"A little-known Dark spell. Only spell that puts them to rest peacefully," I reply coolly, not looking up.

"They attacked the remaining Death Eaters first, I see," the other mentions.

"I told them to," I agree.

"How did you manage that?"

I glance up at them. "Why, Inferi always listen to their maker."

The two Aurors aim their wands at me immediately. "Hand over your wand, Riddle."

I pull out the old stick of yew and am about to hand it over when two people come running over. "What's going on over here?" Minerva shouts.

I stand. "Just letting them take me in for questioning." I shrug.

"Idiot." Potter's hand snaps out and he grabs my wand from my hand.

"That's mine!" I reach for my wand, but the brat keeps it out of my reach.

"Tom, go back to the castle," Minerva orders.

"Now, Headmistress..."

"Tom Riddle is a teacher at my school, gentlemen. If you have any questions for him, you may go through me."

"Minerva, really-" I start.

"Mr Potter, please make sure that Professor Riddle makes it back into the castle and _stays in his room_," Minerva cuts me off.

"Min-"

"_Silencio_. Come on, Tom." Potter grabs my arm and drags me away from the two Aurors and the Headmistress.

I tug my arm from his grip. _'And what have I told you about touching me?'_

_'Oh, shut up.'_ Potter rolls his eyes. _'And stop trying to get yourself into trouble.'_

_'Why should I?'_ I cross my arms over my chest.

Potter shoots me a cold look. _'Tom, why are you so hell-bent on getting dragged into the Ministry, anyway?'_

_'I'm not!'_

_'First the article with Rita, now this. You're certainly not trying to stay **away** from the Ministry.'_

I scowl at the ground. _'Leave me alone.'_

_'Fine. Pout all you'd like. I'll find out what you're so ticked off at even if I have to drag it from you.'_

_'I'm not ticked off about anything!'_

_'You just keep telling yourself that.'_

I press my lips together and bite back on the impulse to smack him. _'Fuck you, Potter.'_

Potter snorts. _'You're so eloquent, Tom.'_

_'I hate you.'_

_'I know.'_ Potter offers me a faint smile. _'You're an idiot, by the way.'_

_'Fuck you.'_

Potter starts laughing.

_'What's so funny!'_

_'You are, of course. You're acting like a four-year-old who didn't get his way. It's endearing.'_

_'**WHAT!**'_

Potter just laughs.

-/-

Minerva stops in after she's finished dealing with the Aurors. Potter's doing some homework while I'm silently reading a book.

"Now, Tom, would you care to tell me _why_ you felt the need to annoy the Aurors?" Minerva asks as she sits in one of the plush chairs that are seated before the fire.

I glare over at Potter, who still has my wand and hasn't taken the Silencing Charm off me yet.

"You know, he wouldn't tell me why earlier," Potter supplies.

Minerva sighs. "Please take the spell off him."

Potter shrugs and ends the charm with a flick of his wrist. "Okay."

Minerva gives me a stern look. "Tom?"

"What? I don't have a reason, okay? Leave me alone."

"Stop acting like a child already," Potter grumbles to his paper. "It's getting old."

"I'm going to wring your neck, Potter."

"Bring it on." He looks up at me coldly.

"Would you two _stop it_!" Minerva cries, giving us both annoyed looks. "You two spend more time at one another's throats than anyone else at this school. If I weren't so worried that you'd actually kill one another, I'd just tell you to get it over with. You're like a couple of first years!"

"I resent that remark," I growl.

"Then stop acting like one!" Minerva glares at me.

"I'm not!"

"Actually, you are."

"Potter, stay out of this!"

"Make me!"

"I'm going to fuc-"

"_Shut up!_"

Both Potter and I turn to glare at Minerva.

"Mr Potter, please return to your common room. I would like to speak to Tom alone."

"Fine." With a wave of his wand, Potter's bag is repacked and he heads for the door.

"My wand."

"Give me Tom's wand, Harry." Minerva holds out a hand for my wand, then smiles when Potter hands it to her. "Thank you."

"Bye." Potter steps from the room and pulls the door closed behind him quietly.

Minerva places my wand in her pocket, then turns back to me. "Mr Potter is gone. Please talk to me."

I look away.

"If you won't talk to me, who _will_ you talk to?" Minerva sighs.

I shrug. "I don't talk to people."

Minerva stands. "You will this time, whether you like it or not, or you won't be getting your wand back."

"Minerva!"

"Good day, Tom." She turns and walks from the room.

I rest my head in my hands. Now what?

-/-

-/-

**A/N: **Wheeeeeeee! Fun, fun!  
I think you all might like me again next chapter...but I could be wrong... XD

FEED ME!. :D  
Bats


	7. In the Aftermath

**Title:** Riddle's "Little" Problem  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Beta:** Me. -smiles innocently-  
**Rating:** hard R  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Tom Riddle(non-con), Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny  
**Warnings:** Rape(non-graphic), physical violence, serious death threats, war, slash, het  
**Summary:** An accident has separated Tom Riddle from Lord Voldemort. What will the Dark Lord do now that he's free from Tom's conscious? How much will Tom have to suffer at the hand of his other half? And what can Harry Potter do to help?

**Disclaim Her:** Mesa cause mucho troubles. ;P

**A/N:** Happy Hallowe'en/Samhain!

-/-

_In The Aftermath _

-/-

I skip dinner in favour of staring at my fire. What is wrong with me? Why _am_ I trying to get dragged to the Ministry? Why am I always fighting with Potter for no reason? Why do I dislike Miss Weasley so much? Why am I so fucked up?

A knock comes at my door and I decide to ignore it. It's better if they just leave me here to rot, I think. All I ever do is cause trouble.

The door creaks open. Great. "Hey, Tom?"

I glance up in surprise. "Granger." There's a face I hadn't expected to come calling.

Granger slips into the room and lets the door close behind her quietly. "You missed dinner. When I asked Harry he said you were busy rotting." She scrunches her nose up. "I came to check on you."

I frown. "You were worried about me?" That doesn't make sense.

"Of course I'm worried about you!" Granger settles herself in the chair Minerva had been sitting in earlier. "And I'm not the only one! Ron and Hagrid and the Headmistress all looked quite concerned too! Even Harry's worried, but he won't admit it around Ginny," she adds with a scowl.

I blink at her. "Why won't he admit it around Miss Weasley?"

Granger smiles faintly. "Ginny's jealous."

"Jealous!" I shake my head. "What does she have to be jealous about?"

"She loves Harry, but ever since you came into the picture, he's been spending a lot of time with you. She sees you as a rival of sorts, I think." She shrugs. "Now, why are you in your room attempting to rot, if you don't mind my asking?"

I glance back at the fire, uncomfortable. "Just thinking."

"About what, Tom? It's not like you to mope."

"Things."

I catch Granger smiling out of the corner of my eye. "What sort of things?"

Well, if I have to talk to _someone_, it might as well be Granger. She knows almost as much about me as Potter, by now. "Minerva and Potter both say I'm _trying_ to get dragged to the Ministry."

Granger frowns thoughtfully. "It does seem that way, sometimes," she agrees.

"It does," I admit bitterly.

Granger settles on the couch next to me. "Am I allowed to touch you?"

I shrug uncaringly, but I'm glad she asked.

Arms surround me in a hug and I force myself not to pull away. I _did_ okay the contact after all. "Tom, does this have something to do with guilt? I know you didn't like the idea of being known to help get rid of Voldemort..."

I freeze. Was that it? Most likely. I never _did_ think I deserved the praise. "I'm not who they think I am," I whisper. "I'm not a good man, but they praise me. Why do they insist on making me into something I'm not?" I wince at how child-like my voice sounds.

"You're not a good man, no, but nor are you entirely bad." Granger runs a hand through my hair and I relax against her, closing my eyes. "You've already paid for your sins, Tom. You're not Voldemort anymore, you're Tom Riddle. I've spent six years helping Harry against Voldemort and I can honestly say that you aren't him. I mean, look at all the friends you've made! I doubt Professor McGonagall or Hagrid would compare you to Voldemort. Harry, Ron, and I all count you as one of our best friends, not our worst enemy."

I shake my head. "I still kill people-"

"Everyone gets the urge to kill people, Tom," Granger offers with a touch of amusement. "You're just so used to acting on the urge that you still do sometimes. But you haven't killed any students, so even _you_ have to admit you've improved quite a bit."

"What about the Inferi?" I glance over at her.

Granger shrugs. "The Death Eaters would have killed us all. That was fair play."

"That's what I told Potter!"

Granger smiles. "Harry has issues with killing people. His morals are too stern for such things. If there hadn't been that prophesy, I don't think he would have ever even _considered_ killing Voldemort. That's just the way Harry is. He prefers peace to violence."

"And yet he's absolutely brilliant in Defence Against the Dark Arts," I grumble.

Granger chuckles. "His personality and his abilities don't always coincide."

I sigh. "He's such a pain sometimes."

"You two _do_ argue a lot," Granger agrees, running her hand through my hair again. I have to admit, it feels nice.

"We clash." I shrug faintly. "He's very much a Light wizard and I'm a Dark wizard. Our morals are different," I murmur as things start to make sense. That _would_ explain our constant arguments.

"That's true." Granger nods. "But I always get the feeling that there's something else that makes you both fight all the time."

"Like what?" I grumble, turning back to the fire. I should put some more wood in the fireplace...

"What do you think of Ginny?" Granger asks unexpectedly.

"Bitch," I mutter without thinking.

Granger starts laughing next to me.

I turn to glare at her, pulling away from her gentle touch. "Why are you laughing?"

Granger smiles a little sadly and strokes my cheek. "Oh, Tom, I don't think Ginny's jealousy is really all that unfounded after all."

I suddenly feel as if I can't breath, which doesn't make sense. "What?" I whisper, totally confused now. It's not that Granger's words make no sense - she's obviously saying I like Potter in the same manner as Miss Weasley - it's my reaction to that suggestion. I _can't_ like Potter. He's an annoying little brat who spends all his free time bothering me. I don't have any _reason_ to like Potter.

Granger gently tugs my head down to rest on her shoulder. "Oh, Tom..."

I close my eyes. "Why am I so fucked up?"

"You're not fucked up, Tom. You're human," Granger whispers sadly.

"I don't want to be human anymore, then," I whisper back.

"Hush," she slips her fingers through my hair again and I let her.

And I can't help but feel that I shouldn't call her Granger anymore. Now, she's Hermione.

-/-

Minerva wakes me in the morning. "Are you feeling okay?" she asks, kneeling before my couch.

I turn away from her. "Go away."

She hangs my wand into front of my face. "Miss Granger says you two had a chat last night, so I'm returning this to you."

I take the wand gently and draw it under the covers. "Thanks."

Minerva's hand runs through my hair gently. Do all women do that? "Please _try_ and make it to breakfast? You're making people concerned when you coop yourself up in here."

"So I've been told," I reply quietly.

She sighs. "Very well, then." I hear her walk across the floor, then the door open and close.

I sit up and stare down at my wand for a long moment. This is Voldemort's wand. I'm not Voldemort. Why am I carrying this thing around still?

There's a knock at my door and two heads poke in before I can say anything. Weasley and Hermione smile cautiously at me from the doorway. "Hey, Tom."

I blink once, then grin. "If I can get Minerva to agree, will you two come with me to this nice wand shop I know of in Djibouti?"

"But, you have a wand..." Weasley mutters, frowning.

I shrug and wave the wand in the air. "This wand belonged to Voldemort. I think it's time I got my own."

Hermione's face lights up. "Of course we will! In fact, Ron and I will go ask Professor McGonagall right now while you get dressed. We'll meet you in the entrance hall. Come on, Ron!" she says happily before pulling the door shut behind her and Weasley.

Cheered by Hermione's reaction, I hurry into my bedroom to change. I can't wait!

-/-

We return to Hogwarts after a successful trip, which was made longer by a detour at a wizarding shop in Balho, which was the closest city to the wandmaker's that we could Apparate into. Hermione got herself a beautiful African-style robe in teal and tan as well as a sheer wrap that had been spelled to keep one's hair out of the way. Weasley managed to talk Hermione into getting him a handful of African sweets and a couple of pranks to play on his elder brothers. Hermione got me to buy a deep green and black African-style robe as well as a set of rare potions ingredients which I'd, apparently, been "drooling over."

Minerva meets us at the doors of the school with a smile. "Well, let's see it, then."

I pull out my new wand and hand it over. "Twelve inches, made of birch wood with a core of crushed ashwinder eggs and nundu fur," I inform her.

"Very violate, according to the storekeeper," Weasley adds.

Minerva gives me an amused look and hands my wand back over. "And where's your old one?"

Hermione pulls the yew wand from a pocket and hands it over to me. "Go on then."

I take it, then snap it sharply with a fair amount of pleasure. Then I hand it over to Minerva. "Might want to give that to the Ministry. It's solid evidence that he's dead."

Minerva nods and puts the pieces into one of her pockets. "I'll make certain they get it."

"Brilliant! Come on, Tom! You owe me a game of Quidditch!" Weasley says suddenly, grinning at me crazily.

"What? Since when!"

"Since now! Come on!"

I roll my eyes and follow him over towards the Quidditch Pitch, Hermione trailing us. "What makes you think I know how to play your silly sport?"

"You know how to ride a broom, right?"

"Of _course_ I know how to ride a broom!"

"You'll be fine." Weasley waves off my complaints.

I let out a string of curses, which makes Weasley laugh and Hermione give me an exasperated look.

Weasley pulls out a couple of brooms from the broom cupboard while Hermione takes all our things up to the stands. Weasley comes back with a couple of brooms and a Quaffle at almost the same time that Hermione returns. "Here you are, Hermione," Weasley says, handing the Quaffle over to Hermione.

I take my broom and take a few steps back. "Try not to murder me, would you?" I request. "I haven't played in ages."

"Hah! So you _did_ play once!"

I scowl. "Of course I played, Weasley. My whole House knew how to play. It was almost a requirement for being in Slytherin."

"It's wonderful to know that traditions never really die," Hermione says in a bored voice. "Mount your brooms!"

"Wait!" We all turn to see two more people running towards us, each holding a broom.

"Harry! Ginny!" Weasley calls cheerfully, waving.

Potter and Miss Weasley come to a stop next to Hermione. "I'll play on Tom's team, Ginny, you can play with Ron," Potter suggests.

"But-" Miss Weasley doesn't look too comfortable with this arrangement.

"Come on, Ginny!" Ron calls cheerfully. "Tom's going to need all the help he can get against the Great Weasleys of Gryffindor!"

"You're going down, Weasley!" Potters calls back with a large grin as he steps up next to me. "Do you want to play Keeper or Chaser?" he inquires of me.

I shrug. "Keeper is fine, I suppose."

"Brilliant! We're ready to go, then!"

"So are we!" Miss Weasley calls, giving me a dangerous look.

I narrow my eyes. You're on, little girl.

"On my count!" Hermione shouts, holding the Quaffle out in one hand. "Three...two...one!"

I shoot to the sky next to Potter, then spin quickly and head for the goal posts. Miss Weasley won't be getting anything through me if I have any say.

_'Whee!'_ Potter's voice rings in my head. _'I feel as free as a bird!'_

I cover a snigger. _'Best watch it, little bird. Your girlfriend's about to tackle you,'_ I tease.

_'Huh?'_ Miss Weasley takes that moment to nick the Quaffle from Potter and swings straight for me. "Ginny!"

Miss Weasley feigns right, then tosses the Quaffle towards the left hoop. Expecting such a move, I easily grab the ball. _'Potter! Heads up!'_ I toss the ball out into the empty space on my left, then smirk as Potter swoops up from below it and takes off across the pitch again with it in one hand.

Miss Weasley offers me a cold look before spinning and going after Potter.

Looks like it will be a fun game.

-/-

We all touch down half an hour before dinner. "Great game!" Weasley calls.

"Same to you!" Potter calls back, grinning widely.

"What was the score?" Miss Weasley asks Hermione.

Hermione smiles faintly. "Sixty to forty. Tom and Harry won by two goals."

"Losers put the brooms and ball away!" Potter says, offering his broom to Miss Weasley.

Weasley takes my broom from me with a wink. "I'd say you played pretty well for having not played in ages."

I shrug. "Keeper's easy."

Weasley laughs at that. "Come on, Ginny. Let's go put these things away," he says, then proceeds to drag his sister away.

"Come on," Potter suggests, motioning us towards the castle. "They'll catch up." We start out and Potter asks, "So, where were you three earlier?"

"We were getting Tom a new wand," Hermione replies with a smile. "He decided he didn't want that old yew one anymore."

"All the better to duel Potter with," I agree with a smirk.

Potter gives me a faintly hurt look. "You asked Hermione and Ron and not me?"

I shrug uncomfortably. "You weren't around."

"You could have come found me. Ginny and I would have gladly come with," Potter says softly.

I purse my lips. "Perhaps it was Miss Weasley's possible presence that kept me from searching you out."

Potter grabs my arm and forces me to stop. "What do you have against Ginny?" he asks with a touch of anger.

"The same thing she has against me," I snap, pulling away from him. "And _don't touch me_!"

Potter reaches out and grabs my arm. "I'm touching you, Tom. What are you going to do about it?"

"Stop it!" Hermione grabs Potter's hand. "Harry, let him go!"

The two Weasley's choose that moment to run up to us. Miss Weasley immediately pulls Potter away. "Come on, Harry. Let's go eat," she says evenly and moves him towards the castle's entrance.

I spin on my heels and go the opposite way, back towards the Quidditch pitch. Little bitch.

"Tom!" Hermione runs to get in front of me, then stops, holding out her arms to keep me from passing. "Don't go off in a huff."

"I'm not-"

"Actually, mate, you were." Weasley steps up next to Hermione and gives me a slightly sympathetic look. "You can't let Ginny get to you like that, you know."

I scowl. "I have no clue what you're on about, Weasley."

"Of course you do." Weasley smiles. "You and my sister hate one another because both of you like Harry." I can't help but gape at him. "What's that look for?"

Hermione giggles. "I don't think Tom realized that you'd noticed, Ron."

Weasley rolls his eyes. "I may not be the smartest bloke in the world, but I can certainly tell a jealousy war."

"Especially after last year," Hermione supplies helpfully.

"Ah, hush it, you." Weasley offers his girlfriend a faintly annoyed look before looking back at me. "Listen up, Tom. I love my sister to death, but I, personally, think Harry's better off without her. If you can get him, more power to you, but if you keep fighting with him like this, you're just making it worse. Hell, he thinks you hate him right now."

I look down at my feet. "I don't hate him, I just don't like him touching me all the time."

"I know, mate," Weasley sighs.

Hermione steps forward then and wraps me in a hug. I stiffen at the contact, but don't pull away. "Harry's a very tactile person, Tom," she offers, stepping back to look up at me, but keeping her hands on my arms. "There's nothing for it."

I shrug uncomfortably and pull away. "I know. I just wish he'd respect my space a bit more."

"You'll have to tell him that, mate," Weasley points out dryly. "With just those words and no threats."

"Come on. I'm hungry," Hermione breaks in. She grabs Weasley's hand, then offers her free hand to me.

I stare at the offered hand for a long moment before shaking my head. "Come on," I murmur, before turning and leading the way back to the castle.

-/-

A knock comes on my door just as I'm laying down for bed. With a sigh, I get up and open the door. Potter stands there, scowling at me. "What?" I ask sharply, in no mood to put up with him again tonight.

"Can I come in?" he asks in the same tone.

"Feel free." I step back and wave him in, then slam the door behind him. "Now, what do you want?"

He turns on me angrily. "Why do you complain every time I touch you, yet you allow _Hermione_ to _hug you_!"

I narrow my eyes. "Perhaps because Hermione _asked_ if she could touch me."

Potter walks up to me and stops mere inches away. "Oh. So all I have to do is _ask your permission_? Can I _touch you_, Tom?"

I bare my teeth at him. "Get out of my room."

"Get out of my room," he mocks.

My hand slaps him across the face before I can stop it and we stand there for a long moment, staring at one another.

Then Potter brushes past me and slams out of my room without another word.

I drop my head into my hands. Brilliant, Tom. Scare him off, why don't you?

-/-

-/-

**A/N:** Meehee. Drama. Meehee. -giggles insanely-

-runs off to go torture other college students and people on Gaia-

FEED ME! XD  
Bats


	8. Trouble In Paradise

**Title:** Riddle's "Little" Problem  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Beta:** Me. -smiles innocently-  
**Rating:** hard R  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Tom Riddle(non-con), Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, Tom/Harry  
**Warnings:** Rape(non-graphic), physical violence, serious death threats, war, slash, het  
**Summary:** An accident has separated Tom Riddle from Lord Voldemort. What will the Dark Lord do now that he's free from Tom's conscious? How much will Tom have to suffer at the hand of his other half? And what can Harry Potter do to help?

**Disclaim Her:** There once was a little Malfoy named Lucius...and then he died... XD

**A/N:** Sorry it's so late, my lovelies... -shame-

-/-

_Trouble In Paradise_

-/-

Potter and I spend a little over four months ignoring one another, which wasn't too difficult, since he left the school for Christmas and spent all of his free time in the castle with Miss Weasley. The only time we acknowledged one another's presence was in class, and even then we did our best to keep away from each other. I also ignored Miss Weasley, as I figured it would prove bad sportsmanship to take things out on her, even if she was a large part of the problem.

Hermione and Ron spent quite a bit of their free time either trying to get Potter or myself to talk to the other - which never worked - or just spending time with me. Minerva and Hagrid also tried to drag us back to being on at least speaking terms, but repeated failures managed to destroy even Hagrid's buoyant nature.

I stare down at Potter's latest paper for my class for a long moment before setting it to one side and starting on Ron's, which is beneath it. I can't even stand seeing his work anymore, and I always end up asking Hermione to grade Miss Weasley's papers for me, so I don't chance getting nasty. I'd ask Hermione to grade Potter's papers as well, but I know she helps him with them sometimes, and he's actually better at the subject than she is, anyway.

There's a knock at my office door and I glance up tiredly. "Come in."

Hermione and Ron step in, smiling brightly. "Come on, Tom," Ron urges. "We're going out to Hogsmeade, and you're coming with."

I give Ron an annoyed look. "Do you see all these papers I have to grade?"

"Hey, is that mine?" Ron cranes his neck forward and I slap Potter's paper back on top of it before he can get a good look. "Oh, come on. You need to get out."

Hermione smiles at me from around Ron. "Come on. We're going to the Three Broomsticks to celebrate Ron's birthday."

I rub at the bridge of my nose. "It's today, isn't it?"

"Yup!"

"Damnit."

Ron grins at me. "Come on. I want a firewhiskey."

"Hell. You're eighteen now, aren't you?"

"You bet!"

I groan and stand up. "Very well. But I'm only coming to make sure you get back in one piece after you get drunk."

Hermione laughs at that while Ron scowls. "What makes you think I won't be able to get back?"

I offer him a bored look. "Ron, have you ever been drunk before?"

"Errr... Well, no..."

"My point exactly." I come to a stop in front of them. "Lead the way, then."

"Right away!" Ron immediately bounds off towards the entrance hall and Hermione and I follow at a much calmer pace.

"That was Harry's paper you'd set to one side, wasn't it?" Hermione asks me quietly.

I shrug. "Yes. I'll grade it later."

Hermione gives me a sad smile. "Just, you know, grade it before class this time, okay?"

"I know." I smile at her. "Do you think he's mad that I forgot to get him a birthday present?"

"After he's been talking about his birthday nonstop for the past month? He probably doesn't care, no." Hermione shakes her head with a bright smile. "He's such an idiot sometimes."

I snort. "But at least he's a useful idiot."

"Most of the time," Hermione agrees.

"Harry! Ginny! Perfect!" Ron calls from ahead.

I glance at the two newcomers and frown when I see that they're dressed for a night out. "I think I should go grade those papers after all," I decide, pursing my lips.

"Oh, Tom, please," Hermione whispers urgently as we stop a few feet from Ron, Miss Weasley, and Potter. "Come for Ron. You don't have to talk to either of them, I promise."

I look up at Ron and give in to his pleading look. "Oh, fine."

"Thank you." Hermione reaches up and presses her lips to my cheek for a brief moment before motioning that we should join the others.

The walk to Hogsmeade is silent. Hermione and Ron walk between myself and Potter and Miss Weasley. I feel horrible for making Ron's special night so difficult, but I can't, for the life of me, come up with anything with which to break the ice.

Once inside the Three Broomsticks, I offer to get the drinks while the others find us some seats. Everyone seems agreeable to this, so I walk up to the bar to order two firewhiskeys and three butterbeers.

I bring the five bottles back to the table they'd grabbed and hand the butterbeers out to Potter, Miss Weasley, and Hermione. Then I sit down next to Ron and pass him his firewhiskey before popping open mine. "To a wonderful eighteenth year, Ron," I offer, raising my bottle to him.

Hermione, Potter, and Miss Weasley also raise their bottles. "I'll drink to that!" Ron agrees, then tips his bottle back.

I trade an amused look with Hermione as Ron starts coughing. Trust Ron to swallow too much. I turn to Ron, and smack on his back a few times until he stops coughing. "Drink it slowly," I suggest.

Ron gives me a dark look. "You couldn't have mentioned that earlier?"

"I was hoping you'd have enough sense to not try and chug your first alcoholic drink," I tease. "Looks like I've overestimated your intelligence again."

Ron punches my shoulder. "You prat."

Everyone at the table laughs and I pretend I don't see the secret smiles Ron and Hermione trade.

-/-

We're all much more cheerful on the trip back. Ron is leaning rather heavily on his sister while Hermione tries to get him to lean on her instead. Potter and I walk side-by-side behind them, smiling at their antics, but not really acknowledging each other's presence.

At the gate back into Hogwarts, Potter motions for me to stop and we pause to watch the other three continue on towards the school, oblivious to the fact that they've left us behind.

"I'm sorry," Potter murmurs long after the others have travelled out of hearing range.

I shrug. "It's not your fault."

He lets out a heavy sigh, then looks up at me. "Look, I was a real jackass about the whole thing. I shouldn't have been aggravating you like that."

I shrug again. "And I shouldn't have smacked you. I apologize for that."

Potter's lips twist upwards in a wry smile. "I deserved that."

I snort. "You said it, not me."

He reaches out to touch me, but stops mere centimetres from my arm. "Do you mind?" he asks, meeting my eyes.

I shake my head slightly. "It's fine," I assure him, but I still start when his hand rests on my arm.

Potter lets out a heavy sigh and then, suddenly, grabs me in a tight hug. It takes all my willpower to not jerk away from him. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, stepping back.

I look away, feeling uncomfortable. "Warn me next time, please?"

"Harry!"

We both glance up to see Miss Weasley running towards us, looking furious. "Ginny, what is it?" Potter asks when she stops before us.

"What are you doing with _him_?" Miss Weasley asks coldly, jerking a thumb at me.

I let out a heavy sigh while Potter stiffens. "Tom's my _friend_, Ginny."

"You haven't been acting much like friends of late," Miss Weasley shoots back.

"We were having a few issues," Potter replies coldly.

"Issues?" a voice calls from behind us. Potter and I both spin around, wands drawn, but our attacker merely says, "_Expelliarmus_."

I let out a hiss as our attacker's hood falls back when she catches our wands. "What are you doing out of Azkaban, Bella?"

"Why, we've come back to help you, my Lord," offers a honeyed voice from behind me. "_Crucio!_"

I fall to my knees from the pain and it takes most of my strength to keep from doing more than that. Lucius casts a mean Cruciatus, damnit.

"Stop it!" The curse ends and I'm aware of arms steadying me. Potter.

_'Go!'_ I shout to him as I force myself to my feet, knocking his hands away, and turn to glare at Lucius. _'You and Miss Weasley will be safe once you're on Hogwarts grounds. Get help.'_

_'I can't leave you here alone!'_

_'Now!'_ I shove him in the direction of the gate. "Lucius. What a pleasant surprise," I offer as a quick distraction.

"Pleasant for som-"

"No!" Bella screams from behind me, cutting her brother-in-law off.

I smirk as I see Potter and Miss Weasley stumbling hurriedly across the school's lawn. "Pity you can't go after them, Bella."

"Pity Potter isn't here to save you anymore," Bella spits at me. "_Crucio!_"

I wince, but nothing more. No, Bella was never particularly good at casting the Cruciatus on men who she thought were pleasing to the eye.

"Torture him later, Bella," Lucius hisses. "Potter and his girlfriend will be bringing reinforcements to save our little traitor friend, here."

"Of course." Bella steps up behind me and wraps one arm around my waist as one of Lucius' hands wrap around my throat.

"Now, don't try any funny stuff, your Lordship," Lucius whispers.

I spit in Lucius' face, then smirk. "Go to hell."

Lucius' face turns nasty just before I feel the tell-tale pull of a portkey. As soon as we land, Lucius' fist sinks into my stomach.

I let out a hiss and look around quickly. It's the dungeons in my base. My Death Eaters sure are unoriginal. _'Potter! We're in the base! Dungeons!'_ I send to Potter quickly. The sooner he knows, the better for everyone.

I feel a hand grip my hair, then my head is pulled back, baring my throat. "What should we do to him, Lucius?" Bella asks brightly from behind me.

A finger trails down the front of my robe. "Let's mark him. Make it hard for him later on."

"But we don't know how to cast that spell. Only he does."

"I'm still here, you know," I point out dryly, unable to help myself.

"I know." Lucius' fist buries itself in my stomach again. "And I never said we were going to use his spell, Bella. I have a better way, but we'll have to make sure he won't move and ruin it."

"We could tie him down in the torture chamber."

Oh. Wonderful.

"That should do," Lucius agrees. I feel a lick of cool metal at my throat. "Start walking forward, your Lordship, or I'll bloody your pretty throat."

"I'm terrified," I assure him, but start walking all the same. I should at least _try_ and stay alive for Potter, after all.

I'm forced to walk up to the metal "bed" that lays in the middle of the torture chamber, then lay down on it. I don't bother trying to fight the restraints as Bella fastens them. I don't fear these two. They have _nothing_ on Voldemort.

Lucius uses a Severing Charm to cut my left sleeve away. "I hope this hurts," he offers before a knife breaks the skin on my forearm.

"You'll have to try harder than that if you want it to hurt," I call. I think I've been spending too much time with Gryffindors. I'm antagonizing my tormentors again.

"Let me help." Bella's words are the only warning I get before another knife is jabbed into my right hand.

I let out a hiss. "I'd like to keep that hand, thanks."

"Maybe I should cut it off then."

"Don't let him get to you, Bella," Lucius suggests. "In fact, why don't you go keep watch? I don't doubt that our Lordship's little 'friends' will soon come knocking." His eyes meet mine suddenly. "After all, Potter had to have come to the base to kill our Lord."

I bare my teeth at him. "May he rot in hell."

"I'm sure you will," Lucius assures me before returning to his task of mutilating my arm. From what he said earlier, I can only assume he's carving the Dark Mark into it. With that charmed knife of his, of course.

I stare up at the ceiling silently for a long moment before asking, "Why did you two come back?"

"To prove we could, and to punish you for turning traitor on us all," Lucius replies.

"An eye for an eye," I murmur.

He digs the knife in a little deeper than usual. "Where's my son?"

"I don't know." I sigh. "He went with Severus. Potter let them go."

He pauses. "Why?"

I shrug. "Draco and Severus kept some of the other Death Eaters from torturing Mr Weasley, who'd been captured earlier."

He starts carving again. "Why would they protect a Weasley?"

"I asked them to."

"So my son is alive because you asked him to protect a Weasley?" Lucius asked quietly.

"Pretty much."

"And my wife?"

"I can only assume she fled with them."

Lucius stands then. "That's all I needed to know. Now, you'll have to excuse me while I go help Bella against your little friends."

I close my eyes and rest back against the metal bed. "If I see Draco or Narcissa again, I'll tell them you send your best."

"Of course."

"Enjoy hell, Lucius."

"I'll be sure to save you a spot."

"I look forward to it."

Lucius' footsteps echo out in the stone hallway as he walks away.

I sigh and touch the thread of light between my and Potter's minds. _'Potter?'_

_'We're in the castle, but we're having problems getting past Bellatrix!'_ he replies, frustrated.

I smile despite myself. _'Lucius is coming to join her. Warn your little task force. Then, if you will allow me to take control of your body, I can lead you down the back way.'_

_'There's a back way?'_ he asks me, even as I sense him passing the word that Lucius is coming on to the others.

_'Of course there is. I built this place so there was always another way out, you know.'_ I chuckle.

_'Here.'_ Potter hands control of his body over to me.

I take a moment to look around. Hermione and Ron are standing with me in a corner away from the fighting. I recognize Minerva, Hagrid, Shacklebolt and a few other members of the Order of the Phoenix fighting against Bella, who's using her knowledge of the entrance hall and all it's hidden passages to attack them from various angles and hiding from their retaliation.

"Come on," I whisper to Hermione and Ron before moving quickly over to a darker portion of the wall. I press a loose stone next to it, then slip down into the stairwell that's revealed behind the stone. Hermione and Ron follow me down quickly.

At the bottom of the stairwell, I turn left, then hand Potter back his body. _'Keep going straight down this hall. It'll be the first doorway on your right,'_ I murmur before shifting back over to my body and it's various pains. Maybe I should have forewarned them about my state?

I hear hurried footsteps, then a sharp intake of breath. "Tom!" Hermione cries softly.

I let my lips curl upwards into a smile, but don't bother opening my eyes. "Mind taking the knife out of my hand? It's actually starting to hurt now," I offer by way of greeting.

A gentle hand presses down on my wrist, then, slowly, the knife is extracted. "Well, fuck, Tom," Potter mutters. "You really got it this time, didn't you?"

"Oh, yes," I agree brightly.

"How can you be so cheerful?" Ron complains as they start un-strapping me.

I open my eyes then and look over at Ron sadly. "Would you rather I be upset?"

A gentle hand runs through my hair and I smile over at Hermione. "Oh, Tom," she whispers, tears in her eyes.

"There's no reason to cry," I assure her, then push myself up with a hiss.

Immediately, all three move to support me. "Tom, I _really_ wouldn't suggest leaning on your left arm or your right hand right now, you know?" Potter offers a bit sarcastically.

"Oops." I grimace and glance down at the damage Lucius and Bella did. "Well, it could have been worse. Bella _did_ threaten to just cut off my hand."

"I don't want to know," Hermione immediately says. "You can feel free to tell Harry and Ron later, but I _really_ don't want to know."

I offer her a sad smile. "Sorry." Then I glance over at Potter. "Do you have your wand on you?"

"I, actually, have yours, too. The first thing Hermione did when we saw Bellatrix was summon both our wands. We're lucky she didn't snap them," Potter replies, holding my wand out to me.

"Perhaps," I reply before casting a simple Healing Charm on my right hand. The cut closes immediately, so I cast a Severing Charm on my right sleeve, then wrap up Lucius' lovely rendition of my Mark.

"Couldn't you have just cast another Healing Charm?" Ron asks as I hop off the table.

"Nope," I reply cheerfully. "Charmed knife. The wound has to close naturally and nothing will ever get rid of the scars. Shall we go attack Bella and Lucius from behind?"

All three Gryffindors give me strange looks. "I'm tempted to just take you straight to Madame Pomfrey, actually," Potter informs me.

I shrug and lead the way from the torture chamber. "You'll have to send someone back for the other half of your task force eventually."

Potter steps up next to me and gives me a stern look. "No Killing Curses."

"I refuse to agree to that."

"Tom!"

I stop and give Potter a firm look. "If I don't kill them, they will be given to the dementors that returned to Azkaban. They could have killed me or truly tortured me, but they didn't. I will not let them suffer that fate," I whisper before spinning and stalking through the halls I'd built so many years ago with only a few followers. I'm the only person alive now who knows their secrets. Everyone else is dead. Well, everyone but the few rotting in Azkaban and the two who are fighting for their lives upstairs.

I hear Potter, Ron, and Hermione following me still, but at a fair distance. So, they will allow me to put Lucius and Bella to rest in my own way.

I climb the main stairs that leads up to the entrance hall, then stop at the top. Bella and Lucius are still going strong, and it looks like at least one of the Order has fallen. I raise my wand and point it at the panel that I know Bella will come out from next. "_Avada Kedavra_."

Bella falls dead and the entrance hall fills with silence. Minerva and her Order can't see me from where I'm standing, and Lucius dares not come out of the panel he hides behind.

"Who's there?" Minerva calls.

I step out onto the landing, then motion for Potter, Hermione, and Ron to follow. They form a small cluster behind me, wands out, but not pointed at anything. I keep my wand trained on the panel I know Lucius is behind. "It's just us, Minerva."

Shacklebolt gives me a cold look. "I don't believe you've been given permission to cast Unforgivables, Mr Riddle."

Potter's hand covers my mouth before I can respond to that with something that will get me into trouble. "If you would, Kingsley, Tom knew Lucius and Bellatrix during his time in Voldemort's dungeons and they got on fairly well. He would rather they be killed painlessly with the Killing Curse than loose their souls to the dementors."

Lucius chooses that moment to step from his hiding place and meets my gaze evenly.

Potter takes his hand from my mouth and I nod to Lucius before whispering, "_Avada Kedavra_."

As Lucius' body hits the floor, Potter buries his face against my chest, wrapping his arms around my waist. He knows that Bella, Lucius, and Severus were the only Death Eaters whom I ever cared for, even if I got mad at them occasionally. They were my most trusted. Only Potter knows that. I wrap my arms around the boy who's hugging me and close my eyes. Only Harry.

-/-

-/-

**A/N:** Wasn't that just a heart-warming ending? -grabs a mop for the puddle of sarcasm which has formed-  
Well, that chapter was a bitch to write. I'm still not sure why...

FEED ME!  
Bats


	9. Voldemort Who?

**Title:** Riddle's "Little" Problem  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Beta:** Me. -smiles innocently-  
**Rating:** hard R  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Tom Riddle(non-con), Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, Tom/Harry  
**Warnings:** Rape(non-graphic), physical violence, serious death threats, war, slash, het  
**Summary:** An accident has separated Tom Riddle from Lord Voldemort. What will the Dark Lord do now that he's free from Tom's conscious? How much will Tom have to suffer at the hand of his other half? And what can Harry Potter do to help?

**Disclaim Her:** There once was a little Miss Weasley - who quickly learned not to piss off the Boy-Who-Lived... XD

**A/N:** In response to a review question, yes, I read every single review I receive and fully enjoy all of them. They always manage to make my day.  
...I'm just too lazy to actually respond to them anymore - what with FFN cracking down on that. -pouts-

-/\-

_Voldemort Who?_

-\/-

"I've already told you, Poppy, nothing you do is going to make it heal any faster!" I groan as the mediwitch continues trying to get me to show her my arm.

"That's what you _think_, Mr Riddle," Poppy shoots back evenly.

I glance over at where Hermione, Ron, Pot-_Harry_, and Minerva all stand, looking on with smiles. "I could use some help, you know."

"How do you expect us to help?" P-_Harry_ asks teasingly. "I mean, come on, Tom. This is _Madame Pomfrey_ we're talking about."

Poppy straightens and turns on Harry with a dark look. "Now see here, Mr Potter-"

I slip around her and hurry to hide behind Minerva.

Poppy scowls. "Get back over here, Mr Riddle."

"Not on your life," I inform her, then hurry for the door.

Poppy lets out an angry sound as Ron, Hermione, and Harry push me from the hospital wing. "Perhaps you shouldn't have left, Tom," Hermione murmurs.

I shrug. "Nothing for it, Hermione. Nothing she does will heal it any faster. In fact, potions and spells are more likely to make it worse. I refuse to take that chance."

"You never mentioned _that_," Hermione cries.

I glance over at her and sigh at the pain-filled look on her face. Ron and Harry don't look much happier with my revelation. "Look, if she'd actually tried anything, I would have informed her. I just didn't see the point in having to explain myself." I scowl back towards the hospital wing. "I'd like to think that people would trust me to know about these things."

"Sometimes, mate, we don't like remembering who you used to be," Ron replies stiffly. "Just 'Tom' has very little to do with Voldemort and we like it that way."

"Perhaps you should stop deluding yourselves," I respond just as stiffly.

"Please don't fight," Hermione whispers, looking close to tears.

I turn away. "I have papers to grade and you three should probably be in bed."

"You guys go on," Harry's voice says as I walk away. Then his hurried footsteps sound until he's walking at my side.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"To talk. Do you mind?" He glances up at me with quiet eyes.

I look away. "Fine."

We continue to my office and I sit behind my desk as Harry takes up a standing position before me. We stare at one another for a long moment.

"Take a seat," I murmur, looking away.

Harry leans over my desk and picks his paper from the top of the pile. "You haven't graded it yet?"

I snatch the paper back. "I got called away before I could."

Harry's lips curve up into a cold smile. "But Ron's is already partially graded."

I slam his paper back on top of the pile and glare at him. "If you have something to say, then say it. I have more than enough papers to grade without you leaning over me."

Harry lets out a sigh before falling back into a chair. His gaze catches mine again and I am nearly knocked breathless by the cold fury in the green gems. "If you ever, _ever_ sacrifice yourself like that again, I'll kill you."

I sneer. "I wasn't aware you cared, Potter."

He slams his palms down on the arms of his chair. "Of _course_ I fucking care! You're one of my best frien-"

"Did it ever occur to you that perhaps I don't wish to be your friend?" I inquire coldly, narrowing my eyes. Friend isn't enough, for some reason. Why can't he just let me be?!

Harry looks for a long moment like he's trying not to hex me before he lets out a hiss of air. "This is about Ginny, isn't it?"

I grab a quill and turn my attention to his paper. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

A hand snatches the quill from me and I'm left staring dumbly at the paper. "Tom, look at me." I start reading over the paper. Looks like another O. "Tom, I mean it." I might give him and E, though, just because he stole my quill. "Damnit! Tom Marvolo Riddle, would you fucking _look at me_ already?!"

I glance up at him, careful to keep my face blank. "I'd like my quill back, please."

Harry scowls. "Look, I understand that Ginny has issues with you from back in her first year, but what's _your_ excuse?"

"If you think that's the only reason she hates me, you need to learn to pay more attention to details," I reply evenly. Just give me back my quill. Give it back and leave me alone.

Harry sinks to his knees in front of my desk and I purse my lips. "Tom, I don't understand," he whispers, eyes filling with sadness.

I can't look at him, so I glance back at his paper. The paper that's missing its O. Give me my quill and let me rot alone, like I'm supposed to. Like I deser-

"You don't!" Harry shouts suddenly and my head shoots up so I can stare at him in shock.

"Don't what?"

Harry stands quickly and he's next to me before I can think. And then he's hugging me and I'm too shocked to pull away. _'You don't deserve to be alone. You don't deserve to be hated by others or to be thrown in Azkaban. You didn't deserve to be tortured by Bellatrix and Lucius or to be abused and raped by Voldemort.'_ He pulls away and forces me to look at him. "You. Did. Not. Deserve. Any. Of. That. Shit."

"I-"

"Goddamnit, Tom! You're not Voldemort!"

I remember Hermione saying the same thing months and months ago, but it seems so much more real coming from Harry's mouth - as if he is God and it's only his judgment that will count in the end. Only his words will make the difference - will free me from the chains I'd shackled myself with all those many decades ago.

Why is it that he's always saving me?

-/\-

I wake in my room, on my couch. How did I get to my rooms? The last thing I remember was breaking down in front of Po-_Harry_. Damnit.

"Tom?"

I sit up so I can glance over at the door to the bedroom. Harry stands there, looking like he's half-asleep and not wearing a shirt. Double damn. "Go back to sleep, Potter."

"Are you su-"

"Sleep. Now." I point behind him at where I can see the end of the bed.

With a tired smile, Harry turns and walks back to bed.

I lay back down and stare up at the ceiling for a long moment. The stone walls can gets so tedious sometimes. Pity paint doesn't stick to them very well.

My bladder lets itself be known, so I get up and brave the cold floor to the bathroom. After relieving myself, I search out some real bandaging materials. Then I sit down on top of the toilet and gently tug my former sleeve off my wound, wincing as the scab pulls apart and blood once again begins to flow. It is a nice rendition of my Mark, I just wish it weren't on _my_ arm.

"Maybe that wasn't the best bandaging idea you've ever had," a voice suggests from the doorway and I glance up at Harry. His hair's all over the place and he still looks like he's only just awake, but at least he's got a shirt and his glasses on.

"There weren't many choices at the time," I point out quietly, glancing back down at the wound. The blood's sliding down my arm and onto my already blood-stained robe.

The water runs beside me for a moment, then Harry kneels before me and gently uses a soft washcloth to wipe at the dripping blood. "Do you know if Muggle stuff would agitate it?"

"I'd rather we not try and find out," I reply dryly.

"Fair enough." He sets the bloody washcloth to one side, then grabs the clean gauze I'd pulled out and starts wrapping my arm back up.

I watch him take care of me, feeling strangely detached. Why am I not fighting him? Why does his touching me suddenly not bother me? "Why am I not bothered by you touching me anymore?"

Started green eyes look up at me as his hands freeze. "I don't know." He returns to his work with the gauze. "I'm not complaining about the change, though."

I stare down as his fingers, moving in a practised motion to fix up a wound the Muggle way. Did something happen last night? Was it when I cried? Or, no, maybe it was his words? That I didn't deserve it? That I wasn't Voldemort?

He secures the gauze with a conjured clip, then pulls away to stand. "All better." He smiles down at me.

I stand up before him, then draw him into a hug. I let my eyes slip closed as his arms slip around my waist. "Thanks."

"Of course."

I pull away. "I need to..." I glance down at the drying blood on my robe. "I should change."

"Probably a good idea. And then we should go to breakfast."

I nod, then wander out of the bathroom. I hear the door shut behind me and step into my bedroom and over to my wardrobe. I pull out a random robe, then smile when I find that it's the African robes I'd bought with Hermione and Ron. I've never once worn them - they're a bit too flashy for my style.

Perfect.

When I step back out into the main room, Harry grins. "You look smashing."

I shrug, biting back a mad grin at his praise. "Thanks."

Harry holds out a friendly hand. "Come on. Let's go to breakfast."

I allow myself a faint smile and take his hand. "Don't want our friends thinking we've killed one another, now do we?"

"Not particularly, no," Harry agrees, leading me out into the hallway. "Although that would certainly be a good April Fool's joke."

I snort. "Alas, it won't work much longer."

Harry shoots me a smirk. "It doesn't have to, silly. We've only got a couple more weeks, after all."

"Really?" I shake my head. "This year's certainly flown by quickly, hasn't it?"

"Yeah." Harry lets out a wistful sigh. "What are you going to do next year, have you decided yet?" He glances over at me again.

"No, not really. I suppose I'll come back here to teach."

Harry grins. "At least I know I'll be able to find you, then."

I offer him an amused look. "And you?"

"Auror training."

I let out a chuckle. "Haven't you had enough of dealing with Dark Wizards?"

"I've had more than enough of Voldemort, but," Harry shrugs, suddenly looking uncomfortable, "fighting Dark Wizards is all I know."

I frown at the approaching doors that lead into the Great Hall. "I'm sorry."

"Tom..." He lets out an exasperated sigh.

I smile over at him, then reach out and ruffle his hair. "Yeah, I know."

Harry rolls his eyes.

As soon as we enter the Hall, I see three people stand from the Gryffindor House table and run over to us. Miss Weasley is in the lead and she hugs Harry tightly, successfully separating our still-clasped hands. "Oh, Harry, I was so _worried_!"

Ron and Hermione roll their eyes at the girl's theatrics, then grin at me. "Love the robes, mate," Ron teases.

"I felt the need for something a bit different today," I reply easily.

"You look like a freak," Miss Weasley offers coldly, still hugging Harry.

"Ginny!" Hermione and Ron call at the same time.

"Ginny, that was uncalled for," Harry says quietly, pulling away from his girlfriend to frown at her.

"Strangely, Miss Weasley, your opinion doesn't bother me," I inform the sixth year. "However, just as a matter of principle, twenty points from Gryffindor."

"You can't do that!"

"Of course he can. He's a professor," Harry offers, giving me an amused look.

I ruffle his hair again, give the grinning Hermione and Ron a wink, then make my way up towards the Head Table.

"He shouldn't even be in this school! He's _Voldemort_, for Heaven's sake!" Miss Weasley's voice calls from the doors as I round the end of the table, where Slughorn is seated. I have to reach out a hand and steady myself on my old Potions professor's shoulder, who shoots me a concerned look.

"Ginny, that was uncalled for!" Ron says angrily. I can hear him up at the Head Table only because the Hall's gone dead silent.

"Uncalled for?" Miss Weasley turns chilled brown eyes on me. "Excuse me if I don't want a _murderer_ for a teacher!"

I feel my face drain of all colour and only Slughorn's hand, gripping my arm steadily, keeps me from collapsing on the spot. All the eyes in the Hall turn to stare at me.

"One hundred points from Gryffindor and two weeks worth of detentions." Minerva stands from her place in the centre of the table, glaring down at her student. "Such slander is unacceptable in this school, Miss Weasley."

"Slander?" Miss Weasley gives the Headmistress a disbelieving look. "It's the truth, Headmistress! Surely you're aware that-"

The sound of skin-on-skin cuts Miss Weasley off and, before she could do anything more than stare at Harry, whom had been the one to smack her, Hermione and Ron have grabbed her arms and are already dragging her from the Hall.

Harry glances up at me. _'Will you be okay?'_

I nod once, quietly, and allow Slughorn to help me into the chair next to his. Chatter slowly refills the Hall as Harry slips out after his girlfriend and best friends.

"Drink something, Tom," Slughorn urges me quietly.

I grab a goblet of pumpkin juice and take a few sips. "That was certainly different," I rasp after a moment. Slughorn just shoots me a worried frown.

I feel eyes on me and offer smiles down the table towards Minerva and Hagrid. Neither look particularly reassured, but both return to acting like nothing's wrong.

I go back to sipping my pumpkin juice. "You should eat something too," Sinistra offers from my left.

"My appetite seems to have magically disappeared," I reply.

A sausage is set on the plate in front of me and I offer the smiling Sinistra a scowl. "If you don't eat something now, you'll regret it later," she points out.

"Blast it." I set down my goblet and spare the sausage with my fork, then start nibbling on it. When I finish, I glance down and find that my plate has been filled with some eggs and fruit as well as a couple more sausages. I turn to give Sinistra a cold look, but she just smiles innocently in response and holds out a slice of apple that she's in the process of cutting up for herself.

I give in and take the offered food. Women.

-/\-

"Ginny has been," Ron confides in me before the seventh year Defence class starts, "shoved into the Vanishing Closet."

I glance over at where Hermione is standing over Harry, making sure he brought everything, as he's been kind of out of it ever since the show this morning, from what I've heard from other students. "Who shoved her in there?"

"Harry, actually." Ron grins. "He's awful protective of you, mate."

I feel my cheeks begin to heat up. "Shut up, Ron."

Ron lets out a laugh, then turns towards the rest of the class. "I bring you proper evidence that my sister is mad. Ladies and gentlemen, we all know You-Know-Who would never _blush_, and look at our favourite pro-"

I lean forward and smack Ron upside the head. "Go sit down."

Ron grins at me over his shoulder. "Right away, mate."

I snort as he hops over to his desk next to Hermione, then glance back at my class. Most of them are watching me warily - just as the third years I'd had before them had been - and I let out a heavy sigh. "Alright, let's hear your questions." I sit back in my chair and rub at the bridge of my nose.

Before anyone can speak, a chair scraps on the ground and I glance up to find that Harry has stood. "Look. Everyone in this room knows that I have this odd thing with Voldemort where my scar hurts when he's near. I mean, I _always_ know where he is and what he's doing. I can tell you - no, I can _swear_ to you, that Professor Riddle is _not_ Lord Voldemort. Yes, he's met the man. Yes, he knows a few Dark spells. Yes, he's killed a few Death Eaters. Guess what. Those same things can apply to myself or Ron or Hermione, or even Ginny." Harry glances around the silent room for a moment, then locks gazes with me. "Could we please just drop this whole thing?"

I nod to him thankfully and he sits back down. "Well..." I clear my throat, then force a smile for the class. "I believe we were to start on the defence for the Blood Boiling Curse?"

Life slowly returns to the room as I start lecturing.

-/\-

"How are you doing, Tom?"

I glance up at Minerva. It's my free period before lunch and I'm in my office, grading papers. "Better," I reply honestly.

Minerva smiles and closes the door before taking a seat before my desk. "How so?"

I tap my lips with my quill. "Harry came in here last night, after I escaped from Poppy, and we kind of had one of our old chats, but this time we actually got past the whole fighting part." I shrug with a faint smile. "I don't know, but I'm not so uncomfortable anymore."

"That's wonderful!"

I glance down at my quill. "I suppose."

Minerva lets out a snort of amusement. "Now, really, did you have to put up such a fight with Poppy last night?"

I look up at Minerva seriously and see her own gaze turn serious in response. "To cast a spell or use a potion on this particular wound would have only made it worse. It was made with a cursed knife."

Minerva's eyes go wide in understanding. "So it has to heal on it's own?"

I nod grimly. "The Muggle way, yeah. One of the worst spells I ever came up with." I run a hand over the bandaging with a frown. "Times like this I wish I hadn't been such a genius."

Minerva lets out a sad little laugh. "Is it bothering you?"

I shrug. "I've had worse." I glance up to meet her eyes, then look away - quickly - from the sadness I see in them. "It will heal, in time, and become nothing more than a scar and a memory. Perhaps not a particularly _pleasant_ memory..." I let out a bitter laugh.

Minerva lets out a soft sigh and I fall quiet. "Do you have _any_ truly happy memories, Tom?"

I frown thoughtfully, then shrug. "No, not really. The few happy memories I have are over-shadowed by other things that aren't quite as pleasing."

She sighs and stands. "We'll have to fix that, then," she informs me firmly before turning and walking to the door. "I'll see you at lunch, Tom."

"Indeed." I watch her go with a smile.

-/\-

-\/-

**A/N:** Happy now, you vipers? Ginny's out of the way.  
-fully intends to throw another wrench in the matter next chapter, just to spite everyone-

Oh, chapter ten's being an arse, just so you all know. I'll try and have it up next week anyway.  
Also - I'm going home for a week(Thanksgiving Break) - so I may or may not get stuff done. No classes, but much homework that needs to be done. T.T

GoF OPENS TONIGHT!!!. -squees happily-

Reviews FOOD!!!  
Bats

P.S. - Updated to fix a couple mistakes pointed out by GCandTKandFF.Nobsession. I might fix the other chapters later, too. If I feel up to it.


	10. The Kiss

**Title:** Riddle's "Little" Problem  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Beta:** Me. -smiles innocently-  
**Rating:** hard R  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Tom Riddle(non-con), Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, Tom/Harry  
**Warnings:** Rape(non-graphic), physical violence, serious death threats, war, slash, het  
**Summary:** An accident has separated Tom Riddle from Lord Voldemort. What will the Dark Lord do now that he's free from Tom's conscious? How much will Tom have to suffer at the hand of his other half? And what can Harry Potter do to help?

**Disclaim Her:** Mommy, my computer hates me!! T.T

**A/N:** I'm sooooooo sorry!!!

-/\-

_The Kiss_

-\/-

The rest of the day was fairly calm. After Harry's abrupt speech in my class, the story spread through the school like a wild fire that Harry Potter said I wasn't You-Know-Who.

I, personally, find the whole thing highly entertaining. It's better than the reaction to that bitch's article months ago.

On my way into the Great Hall that morning, I run into a panicked-looking first year Gryffindor. The child immediately throws herself at me, crying, "They _can't_ take you away! They just _can't_!"

I frown and hoist the child up on my hip, cradling her bum as she continues sobbing into my robes. _'Potter? What's going on?'_

Harry's mind voice, when he replies, is icy cold, _'The Ministry has sent some Aurors to come and get you. They want to take you in for questioning.'_

I feel myself freeze over, even as I continue walking towards the Great Hall, hugging the distraught first year to my chest. _'Well, fuck,'_ is all I can think to reply.

As soon as I enter the Great Hall, I find myself surrounded by the younger students. Most of them are Gryffindors – I _am_ their Head of House – though a fair number of them are also from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Two are Slytherins. The older students stand from their seats at their House tables – all of the sixth and seventh years, much to my surprise, as well as most of the fourth and fifth years – and turn to glare at the group of Aurors that are standing before the Head Table. And it certainly looks like Minerva and the other members of the staff plan on keeping me, judging by the heated conversation they're in the middle of.

One of the Aurors notices the commotion around him and turns to look at me. I meet his eyes evenly, working hard to keep the fury and fear I'm feeling off my face. The Auror turns to his superior and talks him into turning around to look at me. All eyes turn my way.

"Tom Riddle, you are under arrest for–"

"If you bigots won't fucking _listen to me_, I'll–"

"Potter!" I shoot the young man, who is standing at the Head Table with his two best friends, a sharp look. _'Stop it. If I am expected to go, there's nothing you nor I can do about it,'_ I offer soothingly.

Harry doesn't take the hint. Instead, he turns his wand on the Auror in charge. "Watch what you choose to do to my friends, sir."

Students all around the Hall raise their wands and point them at the group of Aurors. I feel my heart warm at all the support shown in this room, but I know this threatening cannot continue if the Wizarding World is to remain at peace. I set the child I'd carried in down, then I wade through the sea of students silently, shifting bodies the only sound in the vast space.

Finally, I come to stand before the Aurors and, without a word, hold out my wand.

"Tom, no!" I hear Harry shout from beyond the group of Aurors.

Before the Auror can take my wand, one of the third year Hufflepuffs runs up and gets between us, hugging me as he looks up at the Auror with terror-filled eyes. "P-please, sir, P-professor Riddle's too ki-ind to be You-Kn-know-Who."

There once was a time when I would have killed a man for calling me kind. Now, I just squeeze the child's shoulder gently, continuing to hold my wand out towards the Aurors.

A hand snatches the wand from my hand. "Leave, kid," a gruff voice adds.

The Hufflepuff bursts into tears and I shoot the man a chilled look before kneeling before the child and drawing him into a hug.

I feel a familiar presence behind me, then Harry speaks. "You're making a grave mistake. Tom helped me _kill_ Voldemort, gentlemen, he can hardly _be_ the man."

"Potter, that's enough," I murmur, not looking up from the child who is clinging to me like a life-line. When did I become so popular in Hogwarts?

"It is _not_ enough." Harry's hand falls down on my shoulder heavily. "You're not taking him away."

"We won't let you!" a voice calls from the Slytherin side.

"Nor will we!" a Gryffindor, not to be undone, agrees.

I glance up at Minerva hopefully, but her dark eyes blaze with fury and she gives me a sharp look before addressing the Aurors. "If you gentlemen would please return Professor Riddle's wand to him, I'll have someone show you out."

"This is an _outrage_!"

"What did you expect?" Hermione's cool voice drifts over from near Minerva. "You're trying to arrest a well-liked national hero. Surely you didn't believe that we'd just hand him over without a thought."

My wand is thrown down next to me. "Be warned, the Ministry does not react well to disobedience," the Auror informs the Hall.

"Thank you for that warning," Minerva shoots back. "Hagrid, if you would?"

"Of course, Headmistress." I find myself shocked by the level of fury I can hear in Hagrid's voice. Even when he got suspended, Hagrid didn't get this angry.

Hagrid pauses next to me to rest his hand on my free shoulder. I nod quietly and he passes without a word. The Aurors follow him out, footsteps echoing furiously in the silent Hall. Even the Hufflepuff, who'd been sobbing mere moments earlier into my robe, has fallen silent.

The doors closing behind our unwanted guests sounds impossibly loud in the silence, and another few moments drip past until – as suddenly as a bell's tolling in an empty village – the Hall bursts out in noise. Cheers and congratulations echo off the walls and ceiling and stone floor. The Hufflepuff I'd been comforting hugs me tightly and offers me a big grin before bounding off, face still wet with tears, to join the joy at his table.

I rise slowly to my feet. _'That was foolish,'_ I inform Harry, shooting Minerva a look that I hope conveys those same words.

_'I would rather be at war with the Ministry than lose you to a past that you've finally moved beyond!'_ Harry replies, stepping in front of me so he can meet my eyes.

I scowl at him and bend down to grab my wand. _'I'd rather there were no more wars, personally.'_

_'You can't have everything you wish for.'_

_'Look who's talki–!'_

"You two are the most impossible men I've ever had the displeasure of meeting," Hermione informs us as she and Ron stop next to us. "Do you _ever_ stop arguing?"

Harry and I trade glances. "No," we chorus, allowing our amusement at poor Hermione to seep into our voices.

"Only when it annoys you," Ron translated before grabbing Harry's arm. "Come on."

Hermione follows suit and grabs my arm, then the two drag us from the Great Hall and into a small classroom nearby. Harry and I trade confused looks around our friends. What _are_ they up to?

Hermione closes and spells the door behind us while Ron crosses his arms over his chest and glares at both Harry and myself.

I scowl. "What the hell are you two Gryffindors planning?"

"Simple." Hermione steps up next to her boyfriend as he continues, "Tom, you like Harry. Harry, you like Tom. Ginny's disappeared. Why don't you two use this free time without her around to establish your damn relationship and just get it over with?"

"Ron..." Hermione sighs as Harry and I stare at Ron.

"What? It was the only way they were going to get it."

"You have no subtly."

"You never said I needed to be subtle for this."

Harry and I trade looks. _'Come here,'_ he says, crooking a finger in a 'come hither' sort of manner.

I step closer to him. _'What?'_

_'Oh, lean down already. I really hate that you're taller than me, you know.'_

I grin and, gently taking his chin in one hand, lean down and brush my lips over his. Immediately, one of his hands shoots up and tangles itself in my hair, pushing our mouths together in a crush of teeth and tongues and wet. And it takes us a few moments, but we get ourselves more comfortable before allowing our tongues to dance against one another, both fighting for dominance that it's likely neither shall win.

Ron's whistle breaks us apart and he grins when we glare at him. Hermione is covering a smile next to him. "Oh, very well, Ron, it worked. Jeeze."

Ron's grin only widens.

_'I say we kick them out,'_ Harry suggests.

_'We could just knock them out,'_ I reply, fighting against a strangely insistent smile.

_'Even better idea.'_ A hand tangles in my hair again and striking green eyes look up at me. _'Ignore them.'_

I lean back down and reclaim his mouth. _'I can agree with that, I suppose.'_

-/\-

Minerva gives the whole school the day free in celebration. I tell Harry to go with his friends after lunch, then follow Minerva up to her office.

"This is foolish, Minerva," I inform her, taking the offered seat.

Minerva sighs. "Tom, look, I won't hand you ove–"

"Why not?! I can take care of myself!" I glare at her.

"Look." Minerva sets down the cup of tea she'd been nursing. "One, there's a part in the pact one must adhere to when becoming the Head of Hogwarts that says that it is my duty to protect not only the students, but also the teachers – you, in this case. Two, Harry would never let me forget it if I allowed them to drag you off–"

"Fuck Harry!"

Minerva gives me a firm look and I fall silent, allowing her to continue, "Three, I don't think I could forgive _myself_ if I let them take you." She smiles faintly, then, "Anyway, I can't lose my Head of Gryffindor yet _again_ this year. The children would be distraught."

"The children will be in danger – never mind distraught – if you go to war with the Ministry," I point out sharply. "If you'd let me go, we can get this over with and I'll be back in a couple days."

Minerva sighs. "Tom, _listen to me_." I purse my lips, but nod for her to go on. "If they find out who they are, nothing _any_ of us say will get them to give you a trial. And they _will_ find out, I know it. I will _not_ let them have you."

I look away, uncomfortable. "I don't like the idea of you starting another war because of _me_, Minerva."

"Why not?" I stare up at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. "At least this time the war has a clear meaning, after all."

"Sir–"

But Dumbledore shakes his head. "If it were I in Minerva's place, I would be doing the same. The Wizarding World needs you, Tom, even though it doesn't know it yet."

"What do you mean, 'needs me', you bloody fool?" I hiss, glaring at him. Who does he think he is?!

"And, eventually, you will understand, but perhaps it's not that time yet."

"You had too many Sherbet Lemons, old man," I mutter, looking away. Has the old fool suddenly become a prophet or something? It wouldn't surprise me, truthfully. I've always wondered about the man.

Dumbledore chuckles. "Go spend this day of rest with your friends, Mr Riddle. I dare say that they will be missing you."

I get up and leave without offering any sort of salutation. Dumbledore has always been a fool, and I'm starting to think it's worn off on Minerva now, too.

-/\-

I find Harry, Hermione, and Ron with Hagrid out by the lake. When I take a seat next to Harry, Hagrid turns to me and says, "Wer' takin' behts on how long it'll take Ginny ta get out. Wha di'ya think, Tom?"

I smirk and entwine one hand with Harry's. "Never," I offer spitefully.

"Tom!" Hermione gives me a disapproving look.

"He's just being honest, Hermione," Ron points out uncaringly.

"Ron!"

Harry, Ron, Hagrid, and I all laugh.

It's nice to be able to laugh about stuff right now.

-/\-

-\/-

**A/N:** I've been stuck right at that spot for TOO LONG.  
So I'm ending the chapter here. Expect a wait before the next chapter. And sorry about the wait for this one.

Reviews are good, and might get my muse to move his arse. -.-

Bats

P.S. – Updated to reflect some changes that I made a while back to the opening scene and never reposted. Oops?


	11. Wizarding Media: Friend or Foe?

**Title:** Riddle's "Little" Problem  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Beta:** magickmaker17(Yes, I actually had a beta for once... -.-)  
**Rating:** hard R  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Tom Riddle(non-con), Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, Tom/Harry  
**Warnings:** Rape(non-graphic), physical violence, serious death threats, war, slash, het  
**Summary:** An accident has separated Tom Riddle from Lord Voldemort. What will the Dark Lord do now that he's free from Tom's conscious? How much will Tom have to suffer at the hand of his other half? And what can Harry Potter do to help?

**Disclaim Her:** Like I'm going to give them a break. -snorts-

**A/N:** I'm seriously starting to lose interest in this fic. I'm going to finish it - I'm determined to, honestly - but, if it ends rather suddenly, you know why.

There was, originally, going to be a scene in here with Draco and Sev, but after spending three months not getting anywhere, I garbaged it. Any ideas you all might have on why those two might want to talk to Dumbles would be mucho loved.

-/-

_Wizarding Media - Friend or Foe?_

-/-

They sent a messenger - one last warning before all our chances were gone. Minerva met him at the gate and told him to go back to his idiot superiors; told him that, if the Ministry wanted a war over the freedom of one man, then they would have one.

I yelled at Minerva again when I found out what she'd done. The other professors hushed me - told me to sit back down and let Minerva do things her way. Dumbledore just smiled knowingly. I hate him.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron fully support Minerva. I can find no compassion in them.

As this _is_ Hogwarts, of course, the whole student body knows about the pending war. The Head Boy and Girl stood at lunch and announced to us professors that the students would all work harder than ever so they could all fight against those who want to take me away from them.

Am I the only one who sees how foolish this is?

-/-

I'm taking a nighttime walk around the grounds when Harry finds me. We continue on in silence for another pass around the perimeter of the castle. Harry speaks as we come upon the front steps again.

"I know you want peace, but it is simply not possible at this time."

I take a seat on the stairs with a heavy sigh. "I don't want any more people hurt. Enough were hurt in the first war, and again this time. I'm sick of being the cause behind all of these deaths, Harry."

Harry sits down next to me and looks sad. "I know."

We spend another couple moments in silence.

"Tom, when I graduate, would you like to move away from the reaches of the Ministry?"

"Like where?" I glance over curiously.

"I don't know. Some place where there aren't a lot of people. We're both pretty strong wizards, right?" I nod. "We could make a comfortable home for ourselves in the Arctic, then, or in a desert..."

"Or a floating island at sea," I agree. "And, of course, we would have to make sure there was a way for your friends to visit-"

"They're your friends too, you know."

"I know." I smile over at him. "A private Floo could work."

"Wouldn't the Ministry be able to use it, then?"

"Did I say it had to be legal?"

Harry snickers and leans back on the steps to stare up at the sky. "I kind of like the idea of a floating island, actually. It would make us extra hard to find."

"The spells would be challenging," I comment, leaning back against the steps as well.

"No problem for you, of course," Harry teases.

I smile. "For either of us. You're hardly wanting for magical strength, you know."

"Yeah, I know..." Harry sighs. "Can I stay in your room tonight?"

"Of course." I sit up, then look over at him, extending my hand. "Shall we?"

"Let's." Harry takes my hand and we stand together before moving back into the school.

-/-

_**'MINISTRY OF MAGIC DECLARES WAR ON HOGWARTS!'**  
'Is Hogwarts Professor Really You-Know-Who?'_

I glare at the headline and hand the paper back to Minerva. "It's not worth reading, is it?"

"Not particularly." Minerva points her wand at the paper and it goes up in flames. "A lot of drivel from the Ministry's side. It looks like they didn't even try and get any of our sympathizers to comment." She picks up a letter with a seal I don't recognize on it and flicks it open.

"We have some outside the school?" I inquire curiously.

"Parents of the students will have their children's' take on all this and will probably follow our side, as well as those of the Order," Slughorn comments before taking a sip of coffee. "I can almost guarantee that the _Prophet_ is being bombarded with letters as we speak."

"They'll have to do an article representing our side soon," Shacklebolt agrees from Minerva's other side.

"It looks like someone's taken the initiative, actually," Minerva murmurs. "This letter is from Rita Skeeter. She's requesting that I ask you, Tom, if you'll allow her to interview you without any threats."

"I hate reporters," slips from my lips as I think about the offer.

"This could really help," Minerva points out.

"Could end the war before it starts," Slughorn adds.

I give Slughorn a knowing look - Slytherins always use others' weaknesses to their advantage - and he smirks. "I don't know..."

"I'm sure Rita would let you have Harry there," Minerva mentions in an off-handed manner.

I blink, then scowl at her. "_You_ were a _Gryffindor_."

Minerva smirks in response and I can't help but liken it to Slughorn's. Or Severus'.

I glance down at my plate. "I'll talk to Harry about it."

"Fair enough." Minerva sets the letter from the reporter next to my plate. "Owl her back once you've decided."

I slip the letter off the table and into my pocket. "Okay."

Minerva returns to her mail.

-/-

Harry _did_, in fact, manage to talk me into the interview after a few minutes. He also got a bottle of Calming Potion from Slughorn and made me drink it before Skeeter arrived.

My first reaction, upon seeing the woman, is to crane my neck to the side so I can properly see behind her.

"Tom?" Harry gives me a concerned look.

"I'm trying to see if she's brought her photographer with her," I admit with a smile.

Harry rolls his eyes, then offers Skeeter a tight smile. "Please have a seat, Rita."

Skeeter takes the seat that Harry had so thoughtfully added to my office earlier, then pulls out a purple Word-For-Word Quill and a pad of paper. "Well, then-"

"No Quick-Quotes Quill, Rita?" Harry inquires, with no small amount of sarcasm.

Skeeter purses her lips. "Since I got the impression that Mr _Riddle_," she says, putting emphasis on her usage of my last name, "strongly dislikes reporters, I figured it was probably best to leave it at the office."

I snicker, unable to help myself. "A wise choice, Ms Skeeter." I lean back in my chair and stare at her for a moment. She's poised, quill held patiently over her pad until she can free it to record our every word. "You're the interviewer, ask away," I finally say.

Skeeter nods. "So, the burning question: Are you, Tom Riddle, You-Kn-" my sharp look cuts her off, "-err, Lord V-Voldemo-rt...?"

I hum quietly and consider my options. To tell the truth, or to keep with the story that Harry and Minerva are using? _'Don't interrupt,'_ I order Harry, deciding on the former.

Harry lets out a mental sigh. _'Very well...'_

I nod, then return my attention to Skeeter. "Yes and no." Harry lets out a sharp hiss and glares at me while Skeeter gapes. "I'm going to tell the fucking truth, Harry, and you're _not_ going to interrupt," I add, shooting Harry an acidic look.

Harry scowls at me, then gives Skeeter a cold look. "It's your second chance to tell the truth, Rita; use it wisely. And don't make me call Hermione in here."

Skeeter pales faintly, then glares at Harry. "Thank you for the warning, Mr Potter."

I shake my head and make a mental note to ask Harry what Hermione has on Skeeter later, then clear my throat and lean forward. "My mother died giving birth to me, Ms Skeeter, and, as such, I got dumped in a Muggle orphanage. This was during the second World War, so - assuming you know Muggle history - you should be able to guess in what sort of state my 'home' was. I will be the first to admit that I had some psychological problems, and the persona known as 'Voldemort' stemmed from those problems. Or, more accurately, _problem_.

"I actually took a few Muggle tests earlier this year, curious as to _why_ 'Voldemort' came into existence. I came to the conclusion that it was a case of Multiple Personality Disorder, of sorts, with the 'Voldemort' personality becoming a literal psychopath after a few years.

" 'Voldemort' ended up taking over for an extended time. I, the 'Tom' personality, was only useful for research and strategic planning. A potion that I was making at the beginning of the summer got interrupted at a critical moment and the resulting explosion, somehow, managed to bodily separate 'Voldemort' from 'Tom'. In the end, I ended up helping Harry defeat 'Voldemort' to, quite honestly, save myself."

"It was hardly the selfish reason you keep trying to make it out to be, Tom," Harry mutters.

Skeeter turns to Harry, looking like she's just seen the ghost of her most feared enemy - which, considering my revelation, could very well be true. "And why not, Mr Potter?" she asks, sounding stressed.

Harry shrugs. "Rita, honestly, would you want to be faced with a psychopath who knew your every weakness and couldn't give a damn if you ended up dead?"

"Correction, he quite planned on keeping me alive," I interrupt. "He kind of needed me."

Harry rolls his eyes and tells Skeeter, "Voldemort's safeguard against death - what made him immortal, if you will - was a Dark spell, concept, whatever...called a Horcrux. The idea was that one picked an item that meant something to them, then used the energy from a person he'd just killed to split his soul and place a part of it in said item. A person cannot truly 'die' if their soul is split and a part is trapped in an object that remains whole.

"Voldemort created six Horcruxes. I destroyed one when I was twelve, and Dumbledore got another one before he died. My friends and I found the destroyed remains of a third one in the old Black House. Tom helped me find two more, and Voldemort destroyed his familiar, which was the last, because..." Harry glances over at me questioningly.

"He got sick of hearing her talk," I intone, closing my eyes. I really miss Nagini sometimes - like when I need someone to talk some sense into me.

Harry nods, then looks back at Skeeter. "Voldemort said to Tom, before I killed him, that Tom was his last true Horcrux, since their soul was, literally, split in half again to create them. You said Wormtail was dead when you came to?" Harry glances over at me again.

"As a doornail," I agree, smirking.

Harry sighs. "It's my belief - and this is just my take on this whole thing, so feel free to make your own conjectures - that, in reality, it was _Voldemort_ who was the Horcrux, and not Tom, since Tom was the original personality. Hermione however, thinks that they were sort of acting as _each other's_ Horcruxes, so you could kill one of them, but the other would continue to exist as a whole person."

"No one ever said 'Voldemort' knew how to properly use his bloody brain," I mutter, earning me a laugh from Harry and a faint smile from Skeeter.

"So," Skeeter steps back in, "should we expect any mass killings from you in the future?"

I snort. "No. Unlike 'Voldemort', I have morals and no burning desire to rule the entire world. While I am of the opinion that the Ministry is poorly run, I certainly don't believe that I would be able to make a very large change in the way our world is run."

"What sort of changes are you interested in seeing?" Skeeter asks, looking genuinely curious.

"Better treatment of magical creatures would be a start," I offer. "A large part of the reason that the first war was so devastating was because so many magical creatures hated the way the Ministry treated them and I offered them a better deal."

"I was under the impression that your offers included mass killings of innocents to please the creatures," Skeeter replies skeptically.

I grimace. "I'm not saying that the Ministry should go to the extremes I was offering, but things like allowing werewolves jobs or setting up a blood donation centre to feed the vampires would greatly improve things. Also, many of the magical creatures that I made deals with were firmly against having to register themselves with the Ministry and, while I agree it's a useful measure for when, say, a murdering werewolf needs to be tracked down, I think keeping them from the public and making them Auror-use only would be a better course of action."

Skeeter nods thoughtfully. "Mr Potter, what are your thoughts on that?"

"I'm quite with Tom about all that. The last of my father's school friends is a werewolf and has had trouble finding a job in the past. I'd like it if he could have a steady job without the worry of possibly losing it when his boss finds out what he is," Harry says honestly. "Why?"

"You mean, Harry, you aren't aware how much sway your opinion holds?" I tease, smirking at him. Harry shoots me a dry look in response.

Skeeter laughs at us pleasantly. "Okay, then. So, why won't you go into the Ministry for questioning, Mr Riddle?" she asks, sounding much more serious.

I sigh. "I'm all for it, but I appear to have a number of people around me who are of the opinion that if the Ministry finds out what my relationship with Voldemort is, they'll have me Kissed without a trial. One of them is in this room, actually." I shoot Harry a sharp look.

Harry purses his lips. "Tell me, Rita. Knowing our esteemed government as you do, do you believe that they'd act first and have him Kissed, then ask if he was safe later?"

Skeeter gives me an apologetic look. "Yes, I believe they would," she says in what seems to be an uncharacteristic voice for her, if Harry's startled look is anything to go by. "Fudge would have done so more readily than Scrimgeour, but I doubt our current Minister would stop to think about his actions before acting when it comes to Mr Riddle, considering his past with Dark wizards."

"Now, will you stay here and stop coming up with ways to get to the Ministry without Minerva or myself finding out?" Harry asks, giving me a knowing look.

I cross my arms over my chest. "Stay out of my head, you little Slytherin."

Harry laughs. "You know, Tom, coming from you, that's almost a complement."

I huff and turn back to Skeeter. "Anything else?"

Skeeter is covering her mouth with one hand and, as she responds, I catch sight of a smile. "No, I think that's about all." She glances at Harry with a touch of nervousness. "And I promise to put a note at the beginning of the interview for the readers to read the whole thing through and keep an open mind before taking any actions. Will that keep you and Miss Granger happy?"

"Best we can ask for, considering the interview's material," Harry allows. "And it might help if you state your own opinion of Tom."

Skeeter gives me a considering look and I scowl at her. She smiles. "It might."

I snort. "And don't replace 'Voldemort' with 'You-Know-Who', please. _He_ might have liked people to fear that stupid name, but I think it makes people look like morons. It's just my full name mixed up."

Harry snickers at Skeeter's blank look and uses his wand to write out my full name in the air in fire-like letters. "Tom Marvolo Riddle." Then he motions with his wand and the letters rearrange themselves. "I am Lord Voldemort."

I frown. "Where'd you learn that?"

"Your diary taught me," Harry replies with a shrug as the letters fade from sight.

I drop my head to the top of my desk and groan. "Fuck you, Voldemort."

Skeeter and Harry laugh.

-/-

I seriously consider hiding under my covers for the whole day, but Harry - who has, once again, slept in my bed while I enjoyed my couch - literally drags me from my warm bundle and halfway out into the hallway before I find my brain again and grab onto the door frame. "I'm up, damn you!"

Harry gives me a bored look, but stops pulling on me. "You were the one who was so insistent on telling the whole truth, Tom. Get up, get dressed, and face the consequences as you have made them."

I wrap my blanket, which has followed me out into the hallway, more firmly about myself before standing and walking back into my rooms, heading back towards my couch. "You sound like Hermione."

"I'm currently channeling her spirit. If you get back on that couch, I'll move on to hexes."

I glare at him, then wander into the bathroom, closing the door behind me gently. A nice, hot shower is sounding good...

"You have fifteen minutes!"

I slam open the door and give Harry my most Dark Lord-worthy glare.

"Fourteen," he cheerfully informs me, tapping his watch with his wand.

I slam the door closed and lean back against it, fighting back the urge to curse the sense out of the insufferable Boy-Who's-Begging-To-Be-Murdered-By-The-Nearest-Psychopathic-Ex-Dark-Lord.

_'It will be fine, Tom. I promise.'_ Harry's mental presence hugs me.

_'You don't know that. Remember how long it took Minerva and Rubeus to not want to kill me on sight?'_ I whisper back, pushing back insistent tears - ex-Dark Lords don't cry, you know.

_'But they **did** get over it, and so did Slughorn and Ron and Hermione. Hell, the five of them are some of your closest friends and sternest protectors, whether you want them or not. And the students already like you, which is much better footing than you had with the rest of us,'_ he sooths.

I push away from the door. _'Can I please take a shower? After that game of Quidditch you and Ron dragged me into, I feel kind of disgusting,'_ I beg. I hadn't been able to take a shower afterwards because we all went immediately to dinner, then I got dragged into helping my three Gryffindor friends entertain their house with magic tricks until I was so tired that I just wanted to return to my rooms and collapse on my couch. I know it was their way of making sure I wasn't thinking about the interview that was coming out this very morning, and I _do_ appreciate it, but I never ended up getting my shower, and that's just _gross_.

Harry's answering chuckle rings in my mind pleasantly. _'Only if you leave the door unlocked.'_

I shoot the locked door - and through it, Harry - a suspicious look. _'Why?'_

_'So I can come in there and smack you if you start thinking too hard.'_

I laugh and flick on the shower. _'I thought that's why you're in my head,' _I shoot back teasingly.

_'No, that's so that I can give you hugs when you're on the other side of a locked door from me,'_ he informs me as I strip. _'Oh, and play voyeur.'_

_'HARRY JAMES POTTER!'_

Harry's mental laughter fills my mind and I groan.

-/-

Minerva has saved me a seat between her and Slughorn, as always. Rubeus sits on the other side of Minerva and Sinistra on the other side of Slughorn. Shacklebolt is sitting at the end of the table beyond Minerva, chatting pleasantly with Flitwick. I know what they're doing. They're surrounding me with "safe" professors so that there's a lesser chance of me being hit with any sort of curses from anyone who doesn't take the article well. I sigh and take the seat - it's not worth fighting with them over it.

I poke at my food with my fork and only nibble at it when Minerva or Slughorn thinks to press me - it's obvious they're nervous too. A glance towards the Gryffindor Table shows that Harry, Ron, and Hermione also look worried and their housemates are trying to calm them. A few of the elder students are shooting me worried looks as well - I can only assume that Ron or Hermione forewarned them about the article.

When the owls swoop in, I fight the urge to flee the Great Hall for the safety of my couch. Minerva gets her mail next to me and ignores the three letters in favour of the _Prophet_. I glance over at the heading and feel ill.

_**'THE TRUTH BEHIND LORD VOLDEMORT'**  
'As Told By Hogwarts' Professor Riddle and Harry Potter'_

I look back at my plate and knock my empty fork against it a few times before glancing back at the article nervously, wondering what it says.

_'I received permission from the infamous reporter-  
hater and suspected You-Know-Who, Tom Riddle  
to come to Hogwarts and interview him about the  
Ministry's claims. The following interview was...  
most informative.  
'Before you read this interview, however, I feel that  
I must say a few things. The first is that I respect Mr  
Riddle for being as brutally honest as he was, despite  
the consequences this article will probably bring for  
him.  
'The second thing is that I ask, no, I BEG you to read  
this interview with an open mind. Mr Riddle is **NOT**  
Voldemort, no matter what you read in this article.  
And I can swear that to you, my loyal readers.'_

I turn back to my plate and start knocking my fork against it again, the sound loud in the mostly silent Great Hall. Minerva reaches out to stop me, then takes a hold of my hand gently. I feel Harry's calming presence in the back of my mind and glance over towards him. He's reading over Hermione's shoulder, face paler than normal, but not deathly so.

I take a chance and look around the room. Most, if not all, of the students are reading their own paper or over the shoulder of their neighbor. Many are frowning, some - mostly Slytherins - have managed to make their faces blank, others look disgusted, but are continuing to read anyway. I silently thank Skeeter for her disclaimer at the beginning.

_'It's not as bad as it could have been,'_ Harry's voice sooths my agitation. _'She stuck to what happened and used our joking at the end as a way to lighten things up.'_

I nod. _'That's good.'_

_'It's perfect. Look, no one's trying to kill you yet, and it's obvious that a number of students are done reading,'_ Harry presses.

I glance up and, sure enough, a number of students have returned to their food, looking thoughtful. One or two are looking at me with considering looks, but no one looks ready to hex me. Even Shacklebolt seems to be keeping his calm and just watching me.

Minerva lets go of my hand suddenly and pulls me into a hug. I tense, but don't pull away. "There's nothing to worry about, Tom." She pulls away and gives me one of her stern looks. "Anyone who blames you for Voldemort's actions is a fool. Understand?"

"I quite agree with Minerva," Slughorn informs me, setting down his paper. "And, of course, now I have a believable explanation for all of those odd moods you'd go into during Slug Club meetings."

I give Slughorn an amused look. "And what was your explanation before?"

"Err..." Slughorn looks around for a moment, then gives me a bland smile and changes the subject. "You never eat enough; it's no wonder you're so thin."

"No, Horace, you just eat too much," Sinistra quips from his other side, then gives me a stern look while Slughorn sputters. "But he's right; you've been so worried about this silly interview that you've barely eaten anything yesterday or this morning. I _will_ start sitting next to you and _ensuring_ that you get proper amounts of food, you know," she informs me threateningly.

"Bloody hell," I mutter, spooning some scrambled eggs onto my plate. "I'm eating, woman."

_'She's right, you know. You **don't** eat enough,'_ Harry informs me with a smirk.

I wave my fork in his direction threateningly. _'You stay out of this, you little horror. You're just as thin as I am.'_

Minerva grabs my wrist and gives me a look. "Stop arguing with Mr Potter and eat your breakfast."

I glare at her, but obediently return to eating. _'I hate you all.'_

Harry just laughs.

-/-

-/-

**A/N:** Longest chapter of the series - you may feel free to claim that this is my apology for taking... -checks- ...bloody hell... O.O ...two and a half months to update. -ducks things that are being thrown- I'M SORRY! T.T -runs off to cry-

Kill me later, onegai. I need to tackle the next chapter now, I think... -moans hopelessly-

_Special thanks to my mum for playing sounding board and ShivaniBlue for letting me pester her about a fic she's never read before. -sweatdrop- And, of course, my darling sister for playing beta, though she whined about the deadline I'd set almost non-stop. XD_

Feed me?. -puppy eyes-  
Bats


	12. The Unlucky Man Who Saw Voldemort Naked

**Title:** Riddle's "Little" Problem  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Rating:** hard R  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Tom Riddle(non-con), Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, Tom/Harry  
**Warnings:** Rape(non-graphic), physical violence, serious death threats, war, slash, het  
**Summary:** An accident has separated Tom Riddle from Lord Voldemort. What will the Dark Lord do now that he's free from Tom's conscious? How much will Tom have to suffer at the hand of his other half? And what can Harry Potter do to help?

**Disclaim Her:** Er, heh?. -ducks flying objects from audience- SORRY IT'S SO LATE! (Not that I actually expected to get this done. Ever... -runs from readers- )

**A/N:** So, I'm working on Hated Salvation and not getting anywhere - isn't THAT promising - and realize that I need to look up Scrimgeour's last name, but pulling down HBP seemed like too much work, and magickmaker17 still had the internet, so I decided to pull out this fic from it's dusty old corner and find out from it. -sweatdrop- So I ended up re-reading the whole dang fic, got a couple ideas for this chapter, and, hence, am writing it.  
This should make you all ecstatic, by the way. -.-

Pee.Ess. Looking back and forth between a fic written in first person present and a book written in third person past is generally a bad idea. -.-

-/-

_The Unlucky Man Who Saw Voldemort Naked_

-/-

After breakfast, everything goes smoothly. My classes for the day are filled with contemplative students who watch me with curious eyes and gentle smiles.

During lunch - which I take in my office, rather than brave the Great Hall - I pull out a pile of homework that the students had turned in that day and read through them. Most of them have a couple sentences added on; sentences that say things like, "I don't care who you _were_, Professor Riddle, you're an awesome teacher now," and, "Be you Him or Potter, you're still my professor and I'll keep you around, if you don't mind."

I feel like crying. Or laughing, maybe. It seems Harry was right about my students taking it well. Of course, the real question is how the Ministry will handle this. Will they stop this pathetic excuse for a war, or will they just full out attack the school?

I find that I'm no longer as scared of the second option as I had been before.

-/-

A special edition of the _Daily Prophet_ hits the school around dinner, as well as letters for Minerva, Harry, and myself. I eye Minerva's copy of the _Prophet_, which she is currently reading, for a long moment before picking up my letter and breaking the Ministry's seal on it.

_'Mr Tom Riddle,  
'It is with our sincerest promise that you will not be harmed that we ask you to attend a trial on Saturday, the twenty-eighth of April at noon, regarding your admitting to having been the Dark Lord. Let it be known that this is simply a formality. If you, Mr Riddle, are found to be safe, you will be sent back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with a cleared record and no other charges will be able to be brought against you in the future. If you are found un-safe, you will be given the Kiss. Failure to attend this trial will result on a full-out attack by the Ministry on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and all persons that are of age or over age will be charged with sheltering and aiding a wanted criminal.  
'Do attend. We do not wish to harm our children.  
'Rufus Scrimgeour  
'Minister for Magic'_

I shudder and pick up the paper, which Minerva has just finished with. Anger blazes coldly from Harry's side of our mental connection - most likely because of his own letter - and I force myself to ignore him.

_'**TRIAL DATE SET FOR HOGWARTS' PROFESSOR**'**  
**'Minister For Magic Sets Trial For Ex-Dark Lord'_

_'As all readers of the _Daily Prophet_ know, Professor  
of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, Tom  
Riddle, admitted to Rita Skeeter that he had, in fact,  
been the infamous You Know Who, though not, per-  
haps, guilty of the crimes he committed.'  
'The current Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour,  
moved quickly to set up a trial with the Wizengamot  
this Saturday to look further into these matters. The  
trial will NOT be public, we have been informed, and  
the professor will be unharmed unless considered  
'unsafe' by the Wizengamot, which will result in the  
Kiss.  
'We here at the _Prophet_ office find ourselves torn over  
this issue. Rita Skeeter seems positive that Mr Riddle  
is innocent of all charges regarding the now-deceased  
Dark Lord and as 'safe' as Harry Potter. Her words  
mean a lot to us here.  
'Whether you support Professor Riddle or not, we ask  
that you take a moment to think back on the article  
from this morning before any fates are decided. We  
ask that all demand a fair trial for Professor Tom  
Riddle. Isn't it what any human being would deserve?'_

I feel... odd. Strangely touched, actually. It seems that I made a greater impression on Skeeter than I'd thought, if the reactions of her fellow reporters are anything to go by. And it's odd to see two consecutive _Daily Prophet_s with front page articles that have the reporters speaking their hearts.

I glance over at Minerva and find her with her hands balled into fists and glaring at her own letter from the Minister. Harry's fury flickers in the back of my mind and I sigh. How should I go about telling my friends that I will, in fact, be attending this trial, whether they want me to or not? I won't risk my students over this.

"Minerva."

Minerva looks up at me, her anger fading into a quiet sadness. "I know nothing I say is going to stop you from going to the Ministry on Saturday."

I nod. "They said it's going to be a fair trial anyway-"

"What makes you think it will actually be fair, Tom?" Slughorn snaps from my other side.

I turn to frown at him. "Because the Ministry isn't stupid enough to have a good chunk of the wizarding world on their arses because they played games at this trial."

"They said it was going to be closed, though," Minerva whispers, setting a hand on my shoulder.

I glance at her. "What did the Minister want from you?"

Minerva looks taken aback for a moment, then says, "He asks that I come to the trial to act as a witness and your employer."

"I haven't a doubt that Harry's letter said the same," I reply, feeling a smirk on my face. "You two will be there to witness the trial and report back in case they don't act fairly."

"What if they change our memories around?" Minerva shoots back, frowning.

"I guess we'll just have to take preventive measures," Slughorn mumbles behind me. I know, without looking, that he too is smirking. It's a Slytherin thing.

-/-

We Floo into the Ministry and find ourselves nearly suffocated by reporters, Ministry workers, and fellow witches and wizards. Only the quick thinking of a party of Ministry Aurors saves us. Once we - I'm referring to Minerva, Harry, and myself, by the way - are surrounded by the party of Aurors, we are led through the crowds and sent into an elevator, which is blissfully silent and lacks any shoving.

Harry eyes the two Aurors who stepped onto the elevator with us as we descend into the bowls of the Ministry building, then turns his back on them and hugs me.

I blink down at Harry in surprise for a moment, then hug him back. "What is it?"

Harry smiles up at me. "Nothing. I just felt like hugging you. Are you trying to make something of it?"

"No fighting in the Ministry," Minerva intones, looking harassed.

"We weren't going to fight, Professor," Harry replies cheerfully.

"You're too happy. Please go be happy somewhere else," I request with a straight face.

Harry stares at me. I stare back.

We last about thirty seconds before we both crack up.

"Department of Mysteries," state the cool voice of the elevators in the Ministry as the doors spring open. I half expect the hallways to be filled, once again, with crowds of people, but only a line of evenly dispersed Aurors stand against each wall and the hallway is a silent as a tomb.

I see Harry shiver as we step from the lift with the Aurors who had accompanied us and squeeze his shoulder. "It'll be fine," I whisper, not liking how my words carry to everyone in the hall.

Harry smiles back up at me. "Thanks." I smile back.

The Aurors usher us into the court room. The infamous Chair is seated in its normal position in the centre of the room and I eye it uncertainly as the two Aurors conjure two more chairs on either side of the Chair. "Sit," one of the Aurors orders.

I take the Chair, as I'm likely expected, while Minerva and Harry settle into the two new seats on either side of me. I shove the sickening feeling that's growing in my stomach away; any and every Dark wizard knows of and fears the Chair. To sit in it likely means that you'll not be returning home. It is a rare man like myself who stands on trial and is acquitted.

Noise suddenly fills the room as the procession of Wizengamot members fill the upper benches at the front of the room. At the same time, the door on our level opens and an Auror accompanies Rita Skeeter in. She looks like a wreck of nerves: her hair is lank around her face and her clothing looks like she'd just pulled the first things out of the wardrobe that she touched and threw them on.

I blink as the Auror conjures a chair for her. "This is a surprise," I comment in a voice only loud enough to carry to Skeeter.

Skeeter offers me a tired smile as she sits and the Auror leaves us to our devices. "I got a letter from Minister Scrimgeour asking me to attend this trial as a witness to my article." She scrunches her nose up in distaste, which makes her glasses - not her normal fancy ones, incidentally, but some small, not fancy ones - tilt dangerously. "I decided to come, since I thought that, even if I can't help change their minds, I can, at the very least, report if it was an unfair trial."

I blink a few times, shocked, then smile at the reporter. "I do believe you've grown on me, Miss Skeeter. Thank you."

Skeeter laughs softly. "Should I be honoured?"

"You should be quite glad," Harry offers, eyes twinkling madly. "He seems to think that all reporters are cockroaches. You seemed to have moved on to a beetle."

"You look like Dumbledore," I mutter to Harry, frowning as Skeeter narrows her eyes at Harry. "And do behave yourself."

Harry shrugs and glances up at the benches, where the Wizengamot seems to have finished filling in. "Can't help it. It's almost built in now," he states quietly, then glances at Skeeter.

She frowns, but nods. "Just... _do_ watch it."

Harry smiles. "I know how to keep a secret."

"That's what worries me," Skeeter retorts.

"Are we all prepared to start," Scrimgeour calls as he takes his seat at the front of the Wizengamot.

"Yes, sir," calls a far too excited voice - in my opinion. I glance over towards the happy chap and find a bouncy young man with bright red hair and freckles.

_'Percy Weasley,'_ Harry informs me with a slab of distaste, probably having sensed my confusion. _'He's Ron's elder brother.'_

_'Ah...'_ I glance back up at Scrimgeour and nod that we're ready.

Scrimgeour nods back, then starts speaking in a loud, clear voice, "We are here today to review the charges being brought against one Tom Marvolo Riddle about his hand in the atrocities of He Who Must Not Be Named-"

"Voldemort," Harry mutters next to me, scowling up at the Minister. I cover a smile and sense Minerva doing the same on my other side.

"-and his Death Eaters on the wizarding public of Britain.

"The interrogators for this case will be as follows: Rufus Sayer Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic; Ophelia Louise Hayward, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. The Court Scribe is Percy Ignatius Weasley. Witnesses for the defence are as follows: Minerva Monica McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; Harry James Potter, student of Hogwarts and Defeater of-"

"Voldemort," Harry snaps before Scrimgeour can mangle my false name, then proceeds to smile innocently at the Minister.

"Yes. Him." Scrimgeour gives Harry a nasty look, then continues, "And Rita Lara Skeeter, Reporter for the _Daily Prophet_." He shuffles the papers that are on the table in front of him and shoots Harry yet another nasty look before glancing back down at his papers to continue. "Charges are as follows: Murder, torture, starting a war, use of the Dark Arts, use of the Unforgivables, use of magic in sight of Muggles, creating an army without Ministry permission, and, of course, refusing to cooperate with the Ministry."

I feel ill at the reminder of all the things I - or Voldemort, really - have done. _'I was one nasty son of a bitch, wasn't I?'_

Harry's hand grabs mine and I glance over at him to see him glaring up at the Minister. I realize what he's going to do only seconds before he speaks, "Yeah, and what about all the good things he's done? Like helping me kill Voldemort? Or protecting the students of Hogwarts and the members of Hogsmeade when the Death Eaters and Inferi attacked back in November?"

Scrimgeour's right eye twitches and the witch sitting on his left, Madame Hayward, smiles faintly. Umbridge leans forward slightly and I feel ill again, though, this time, for a completely different reason. _'I didn't know it was possible for anyone to look that ugly...'_

Harry turns to give me an incredulous look, than snickers. _'You have **no** idea.'_

_'I don't know. **You** never had the misfortune of seeing Voldemort right after he'd gotten out of the shower,'_ I reply, shuddering at the memory.

Harry, sneaking a glance at said memory, turns green. _'Oh, gross! Just imagine Umbridge naked. That should make it all better.'_

_'You're not helping my mental state, Mr Potter,'_ I offer dryly.

Before either of us can continue, Madame Hayward inquires, "What are you two doing?" though she doesn't sound upset, as I would have expected, just curious.

Harry answers before I can think up a good response. "When Voldemort cast the Killing Curse on me back when I was one, he gave me this lovely scar, as everyone knows," Harry flipped back his hair, showing said scar, "and created a bit of a connection between us. For the most part, all that got through the connection was emotions, when one of the two of us were feeling extreme ones, the other would feel it. Though, Voldemort was always so angry, I'm sure he never noticed when he got something from me," Harry adds dryly. I shake my head, even though I know the question is rhetorical.

"When he came back," Harry continues, "I started getting visions from him, dreams of things that he was up to. After Voldemort and Tom split into two different bodies, Tom used the link between us to do a sort a corporeal projection, but he was in my head, rather than as a spirit in real time. And he could take over control of my body." Harry shoots me a smirk as he says this, and I roll my eyes. "The link finally got to the point where we can talk to each other through it without leaving our bodies. Good for conversations across the Great Hall and Death Eater attacks in Hogsmeade," he finishes with the sort of smile that always makes me wonder how he managed to talk the Hat into putting him into Gryffindor.

Madame Hayward looks entirely caught up in Harry's story, and she's not the only one, I recognize, looking over the Wizengamot. At least half of the members are leaning forward in their seats, and I can't help but wonder if I'll be kept alive just to run tests on.

_'Nah. They'd have to involve me in those tests too, you know,'_ Harry reassures me cheerfully. _'And we all know that involving the Defeater of Voldemort in any sort of tests is strictly taboo.'_

_'Thanks, Harry,'_ I reply, shooting him my best death glare.

Harry sends me a bright smile.

Minerva coughs next to me and shoots both Harry and myself pointed looks when we turn to look at her. "Do refrain from speaking in your minds," she half requests, half orders. Harry and I trade smirks. "And keep to English," Minerva adds.

Madame Hayward, a good chunk of the Wizengamot, and Skeeter all laugh. Whether it's at Minerva's statement, or the horrified looks we shoot her because of it, however, I can't tell.

_'Of course,'_ I realize, _'it doesn't matter what they're laughing at, the fact is that they're laughing at us being human.'_

_'Voldemort was not the sort of person to joke with his fellows,'_ Harry agrees, not looking at me or in any way giving away that we're talking in our minds again. _'It's the same thing we did with Rita.'_

I feel like laughing all of a sudden. Never mind that we're quite obviously proving me 'safe', but the trial's entirely off subject. Scrimgeour looks like he's about to blow his top, as does Umbridge and the few Wizengamot members who aren't laughing or smiling at our antics. I feel the insane urge to shoot a smirk at Scrimgeour, but decide against it on the principle that it's likely to work against me. Not that that stops Harry, who gleefully smirks away next to me.

Scrimgeour narrows his eyes and waves his wand. A shower of orange sparks shoots up, effectively silencing the room. "We have gotten off topic," he states calmly.

"I apologize, Minister," Madame Hayward says carefully.

Scrimgeour ignores her in favour of watching me frown back at him. "And please tell me, Mr Riddle, what you make of these charges?"

I blink, then smile coldly as I recall something. "I have never, ever denied that I was once one and the same as Voldemort, Minister Scrimgeour. However, as far as the letter that you sent me regarding this trial was concerned - never mind the story in the _Prophet_ - I was under the impression that this trial was to decide whether or not I am 'safe' among my fellow witches and wizards, not to charge me with the crimes that I have committed in my past. If I have been brought here to be put on trial for my past crimes, I believe you will find that the public is looking for a new Minister."

I let the threat hang between us as I stare back at the furious Scrimgeour. Since all my attention is on him, I jump when Harry speaks up next to me softly.

"Minister, if what Tom is suggesting is true, we are going to leave and you'll have to get through Hogwarts for this trial to continue. While Tom will not directly threaten you, Minister, I will. If anything in this trial goes awry, you will find that letter that you sent to Tom plastered all over the _Daily Prophet_ by tomorrow morning."

"Harry!" I turn to him with a sharp look and he just gives me a tired look.

"What, exactly, is so incriminating in this letter, Rufus?" Madame Hayward asks quietly. I glance back up at the benches and see that Scrimgeour has gone paper white.

"Something along the lines of him setting a full-scale attack on Hogwarts and charging all the of age or over age members of the castle with aiding and sheltering a wanted criminal," Harry replies flippantly. "Oh, and it ends with something along the lines of, 'we do not wish to harm our children'." He smiles sweetly up at the Wizengamot.

I groan and put my face in my hands. "Harry Potter, you are a menace," I mutter to him. He beams at me and I groan again.

Madame Hayward's voice suddenly cuts through the silence that has befallen the Wizengamot, cold and sharp as a knife, "You dare to make such threats without my or Gawain's agreement? Need I remind you that you are no longer the Head of the Auror Department?"

"I like her," Harry decides quietly. I roll my eyes while Skeeter snickers and Minerva smiles faintly.

Madame Hayward seems to calm herself after her slight outburst and whispers, "We will have tea after this trial is done, Rufus. And you will leave your pet toad at home."

"I _really_ like her," Harry decides, eyes shining. "Forget being an Auror. I want to work for _her_." Skeeter snickers again while Minerva's smile grows more pronounced.

I give Harry a tired look. "Being an Auror _would_ be working for her, Harry."

"Not close enough. Hey, do you think she'd marry me?"

I choke as Skeeter completely loses it and Minerva coughs into her hand. Harry just smiles at me brightly.

"Is there something funny over there?" Umbridge snaps, finally speaking up.

I smirk at Harry, making him frown, then turn to the group at the front of the room. "Nothing major, Madame Umbridge. Mr Potter here was just wondering if Madame Hayward would marry him," I offer calmly.

The entire Wizengamot, Madames Umbridge and Hayward, and Scrimgeour all stare at Harry and myself in shock while Skeeter continues to howl in laughter and Minerva looks torn between being horrified and helplessly amused.

"I hate you, by the way," Harry grumbles, punching my arm.

I cock an eyebrow at him. "You did it to yourself."

"I still hate you. Bastard," Harry says, scowling at me.

"My parents _were_ married, I'll have you know," I inform him, rolling my eyes at his childishness.

"I know. Professor Dumbledore told me," Harry replies, suddenly looking rather happy. "But I don't think a love potion counts."

"I said they were married, not that my father loved her," I retort. "And what were you and Dumbledore doing looking into my parents?"

"Oh, you know, old history lessons and what-not. Something to lord over your head."

"I'm sure." I give Harry a dry look.

Harry smirks back at me.

"While I'm sure we're all quite grateful that you've decided to share your private discussions with us, I believe that, from now on, you should continue to have them in manners which the rest of us don't understand," Minerva says in the silence. "You two are ridiculous."

"You started it," Harry and I chorus, turning to smile at Minerva.

Minerva gives us both dry looks, then glances back up at the group of witches and wizards who are supposed to be judging me. "Is he 'safe'? Can we take him back to the castle and lock him up so he'll stop driving me mad?" she asks them.

"Hey!" I shoot Minerva a hurt look and she just blinks at me blankly.

Madame Hayward chuckles softly. "Yes, I believe we've seen enough to judge whether or not Mr Riddle is 'safe'." She turns to the Wizengamot, still smiling. "Those in favour of declaring Mr Riddle 'safe'?"

Nearly the entire Wizengamot raises their hands. I feel like crying in relief.

"Those in favour of giving Mr Riddle the Kiss?" Madame Hayward asked.

Three hands go up: Umbridge, Scrimgeour, and one member of the Wizengamot.

Harry lets out a cheer next to me and jumps up to dance. Skeeter smiles at me while Minerva hugs me with a huge smile.

I smile up at Madame Hayward and she smiles back for the brief moment before Harry drags me to my feet and makes me dance with him. I laugh and hug him instead. _'I'm okay. It's all okay!'_

Harry smiles at me in response and hugs me back. _'Of course it's okay, you moron. You're **still** not Voldemort, no matter what you say.'_

_'Brat.'_

_'Bastard.'_

_'Creature of the Devil.'_

_'Unlucky man who saw Voldemort naked.'_

_'Die,'_ I order, trying to scowl at him and failing.

Harry laughs.

-/-

-/-

**A/N: **The court scene was...difficult. Harry and Tom kept getting off track. -sweatdrops and laughs nervously- I mean, I love writing the two boys, but they drive me NUTS sometimes. -hugs Harry and Tom fondly, then smacks them both-  
Is everyone okay with the trial? I have to ask. I tried to keep it like Harry's trial in OotP, but I also took the DE trials from GoF into account, since I was dealing with a different Minister than Fudge. Did it work?. -has a nervous breakdown- I swear I tried really hard with it!. -cries-

Uhm. OC!Rufus was largely because I did finally pull out HBP and was reading his chats with Harry - I couldn't remember whether he called Voldemort by his name or 'He Who Must Not Be Named' - and so he came across as a little nasty because of how he kept trying to use Harry in the book. Oh, and I haven't slept. -sweatdrop-

Feed me? Even though I took so long?. -puppy eyes-  
Bats

PEE.EES. - Any and all mistakes are the result of me betaing this only an hour after I finished writing it and after still having not slept. -sweatdrop- I decided to get this up before work. I'll try and remember to hand this off to magickmaker17 next time we're both in the house at the same time. -.-

PEE.PEE.EES. - Don't expect the next chapter of Hated Salvation on the twenty-second, by the way. As I said at the top, it's being an ass. And I have to work every day between today and the twenty-second. -cry- I'll try and get it written and out by the twenty-third, but I'm making no promises...


	13. Epilogue: Just A Little Case of Paradise

**Title:** Riddle's "Little" Problem  
**Author:** Batsutousai  
**Beta:** Just me, 'cause I wanna get this up ASAP  
**Rating:** hard R  
**Pairings:** Voldemort/Tom Riddle(non-con), Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, Tom/Harry  
**Warnings:** Rape(non-graphic), physical violence, serious death threats, war, slash, het  
**Summary:** An accident has separated Tom Riddle from Lord Voldemort. What will the Dark Lord do now that he's free from Tom's conscious? How much will Tom have to suffer at the hand of his other half? And what can Harry Potter do to help?

**Disclaim Her:** I'd apologize for taking ages to update, but it takes too much effort and I'm tired.

**A/N:** Any mistakes are simply the fault of my bandaged finger. I pulled a little too much skin away and it hurts to type with it if it's not got a bandage on it. -sweatdrop-

I WAS going to make this an actual chapter, but after twiddling my thumbs over it for however long it took me to write this and not getting anywhere, then going back and reading the last couple chapters, I decided that an Epilogue is about the best I can do.

Hmmm... First person. First person... -sweatdrop-

-/\-

_Epilogue:  
Just A Little Case Of Paradise_

-\/-

After the trial, we returned to Hogwarts to cheers and laughter. In celebration of my 'safeness', Minerva asked the house-elves to make us a feast to outdo any such ever seen on Hogwarts grounds.

And that it did. Between the laughter and the joy and the glorious food, the feast was perfect. I spent most of it down with the Gryffindors, as Harry came up to the Head Table after a few minutes and dragged me over to celebrate with them.

Although, I'm of the opinion that the best part of the feast was when Miss Weasley walked in, looking disoriented and asked the first person she met at the Gryffindor Table - which happened to be a Ravenclaw, oddly enough - what the party was about. The following shriek of rage silenced the Hall rather effectively and it was Harry who broke the silence with a cheerful call of, "Come on, Ginny! There's plenty of food for everyone!" from his position in my lap.

Miss Weasley fainted in response, much to almost the entire Hall's amusement. I still cannot find it in myself to feel sorry for her, even a year later.

Yes, a year. Harry graduated from Hogwarts and got 'O's on all of his NEWTs, much to his surprise. He's still of the opinion that the examiners just gave him a perfect pass because they wanted to. Hermione and Ron, who have checked with their fellows who had taken their practicals with Harry, say that he deserved every last one of those 'O's.

Once the school year ended, Harry and I said good-bye to our group of friends for the summer and set about doing research for the creation of a floating and very private island that the Muggles won't chance coming upon by accident. We managed it - somehow - and are currently floating through the Mediterranean Sea, seeing the sights both on land and on the sea. We visited America and Canada before Christmas, then returned to Great Britain for a large party that the Weasleys insisted on holding - sans Miss Weasley, unsurprisingly. After that, we floated along the coast of France and Spain, pausing every once and a while to go ashore. We ended up skipping Portugal because Harry got sick of Spanish and Spanish-like places and went straight for Italy.

Occasionally, Ron or Hermione will join us via the special portkeys that Harry and I made. Minerva, Rubeus, Slughorn and, surprisingly, Rita Skeeter also got portkeys. During breaks in the school term and the occasional weekend, the three Hogwarts professors come by to chat with me, mostly. Rita comes by once a week or so to tell us what stupid things our world has been up to of late and collect our latest journal entries.

Yes, journal entries. Rita - with the help of the other five who have access to our island - talked us into writing a column, of sorts, about our travels and the places we're visiting. A sort of, "letters to home from our saviours", as Rita put it. We write an entry every day over dinner about what we did that day and then Rita comes to pick them up at the end of the week and publishes one a day. She says she's publishing them a week after our actual trip so we have _some_ privacy. For that, both Harry and I are grateful.

Surprisingly, the column - annoyingly called, _"Letters from the Finer Life: Harry Potter and Tom Riddle's Travels Around the Globe"_ - is impossibly popular. Rita tells us that she gets piles of letters every day asking questions and exclaiming their pleasure in knowing that we're doing well. Minerva tells us, when she visits, that the column makes the students happy as well. They like getting daily updates on our well-being, even if they're a week late.

On other news...

Rita published an article of the trial I went through to prove I was 'safe' after getting the permission of myself, Harry, and Madame Hayward. The reply from the wizarding public was impressive and Scrimgeour was out of office by the end of the day. Harry's comment during the trial about marrying Madame Hayward went a long way towards getting her noticed and by the end of the week, she was voted in as the next Minister for Magic. Her first action in office was to fire Umbridge, much to the glee of the Hogwarts population. The following weeks were filled with an impressive revamping of the British Ministry of Magic that, had Harry and I not already agreed to leave the island for a bit of peace and quiet, almost made Harry and I _both_ want to work for the Ministry.

A surprise letter from Minister Hayward - delivered by Rita - assured us that our travelling around the globe and writing for our column in _The Daily Prophet_ was doing a lot to help the Ministry fix itself and the problems in the wizarding community that both I and previous Ministers had caused. Hayward also added that, should Harry and I even get bored of travelling just to travel, she could certainly use some ambassadors that didn't mind being on the move a lot and moving from one place to another at a moments notice.

Harry and I have agreed that, if we ever get bored of our life as it is now, we'd be most glad to take the Minister's offer. But, as it stood, we were fine just travelling and sending back a pack of letter with Rita each week that assured the wizarding world that we were still going strong and, at the same time, showing them what life was like outside their quiet little communities where they went about their every day lives in the peace and happiness that Harry, Ron, Hermione and I made for them by defeating not only Voldemort, but Rufus Scrimgeour as well.

-/\-

-\/-

**A/N:** It's done. It's finally done. I'm not writing anymore. I'm done. It's one thirty in the morning and mum says she might knock at my door tomorrow morning when she leaves at seven thirty 'cause I'm going back to school the next day and she won't see me again for another week.  
I suppose I should leave a copy of this chapter on this computer so magickmaker17 can read it over and fix all my stupid mistakes and possible make me repost it if this is too crappy.

But I'M DONE! DONE!!

And I need to write that paper for Children's Lit. And read two chapters for Psych. And study Japanese. And stop rolling up D&D character sheets, 'cause I've got more than I'll ever use in my entire life unless somebody manages to talk me into being a DM for a game or two. NO, THAT'S NOT A CHALLENGE!!

Sleep. Reviews make me happy and filled with peace and ideas for all my other fics which are still on hiatus!  
Batty XD


End file.
